Chapter 14
SINAN
H alf an hour later, Sinan returned to the spot across the street from La Pissotte, annoyed with himself, Jacques, and the undead rat.
The rodent had shadow-walked away from Sinan when he had tried to release its soul, which shouldn’t be something a simple corpus animatum could do.
Enough time had now passed that the Lioness and Prince Gallmau must be inside the tavern, and he felt as irritated about meeting the two of them in public as he did with his failed exorcism of his uncooperative death construct.
He crossed the street and pushed the front door of La Pissotte open.
Stepping inside, he encountered a rush of warm air that brought odors of roasted meat and packed-in human bodies.
He had considered and discarded the idea of trying to disguise himself for the meeting.
Sitting down with the two Tomb Fighters would tell everyone who he was.
Meri and Gallmau weren’t difficult to find.
They were seated at a center table heaped to overflowing with pitchers of beverages and food.
A bookish-looking young man dressed in court silks held a wine glass in one hand and massaged the prince’s arm with the other.
Another courtier with tousled black hair, a broad chest, and tight-fitting pants was chatting with Meri.
He did not look like he spent much time with books.
Conversations stilled as Sinan walked to the table, and chairs began to scrape as more of the room’s inhabitants realized a Bone Lord had entered the tavern and turned to stare at him.
This could get ugly fast.
Sinan had excellent spells to defend himself, but most of them involved killing as many of his attackers as possible in a short period of time.
He didn’t want to wipe out a building full of the Queen’s subjects before even starting this quest. In another few moments, though, the only table in the place whose occupants weren’t staring and pointing at him was the one with the two Tomb Fighters and their admirers.
Sinan came to a stop in front of the table. He had put his hood up and still had his sacred face paint in place. Gallmau’s courtier, who had been going on about poetry, gave a gasp of alarm. He and the other man scrambled away without Sinan needing to say a word, which Sinan found quite gratifying.
“Look, Meri.” Gallmau stretched back in his chair. He had changed into less formal clothing, and the white shirt he was wearing clung to his sculptured chest and arms. “Bone Boy decided to join us.”
Meri nibbled at the piece of cake. She had thrown Gallmau’s formal jacket over her arms for her visit to the tavern and looked as gorgeous and predatory as she had during the ball. “He also scared away my plans for the evening.”
“You insisted I come to this disreputable location to discuss the partnership you forced upon me.” Sinan did his best to look menacing, which usually didn’t require this much effort on his part. “I’m here.”
A chair hit Sinan in his legs. Gallmau gestured to the seat he had kicked out at him from under the table. “Sit down, then. I’m drinking cider, but they should have brandy around here. Real brandy, I promise, not the cursed kind you gave to me.”
“You can’t poison me, and I can’t get drunk.” Sinan sat down, mostly to make himself less conspicuous. The tavern grew tense and quiet, never a good sign. “You two do get paid to kill my people. I’d have assumed you’d be spending the evening getting ready for the quest tomorrow.”
“We’re celebrating in advance.” Meri took a bite out of a large butter pastry and gave him a malicious smile. Right. The Lioness knew how uncomfortable Sinan was and had every intention of drawing this meeting out.
Celebrating seemed to involve alcohol for Gallmau and tasty food for Meri.
As for the rest of the entertainment, both of them obviously liked handsome men.
Sinan’s mind, unbidden, began to wander into thoughts of what the two of them might be doing in their beds later tonight, and with whom.
He jerked his attention back to the present.
“Why can’t he get drunk?” Gallmau asked Meri.
He pushed a bottle of cider toward Sinan.
Speaking of food and drink, both would be welcome after an exhausting day when there had been little time to have either.
But breaking bread with his two enemies wasn’t something Sinan was willing to do. He pushed the bottle away.
“He has a protection sigil against poisons.” Meri pointed to the correct symbol on Sinan’s cloak, which was—concerning. “Bone Lords are resistant to that sort of thing. Now fire, that’s another story.”
“Do you even know or care where we’re going tomorrow, and what we might face?
” Sinan now had solid information about the events surrounding Rixende’s abduction, and if he was concerned about what they were walking into, both the Lioness and the prince should be even more worried.
“My notion of planning for an upcoming battle is quite different than yours.”
“If you did prepare like us, who might you like?” Gallmau indicated the people in the tavern with a wave of his hand. Even the prince was joining in with this game, trying to get a rise out of him.
Sinan had already sized up the crowd for potential threats, dismissing the table the two courtiers had retreated to as he eyed men with practical clothing and hard faces.
Even more concerning, a massive man leaning against the far wall with a mug in his hand had to be a Shield of Thaschus, even if he was no longer wearing his uniform.
He hated being exposed to so many enemies at once. His heart was pounding, and a prickle of sweat threatened to smudge his sacred face paint. Dozens of eyes were upon him, filled with a mixture of fear and fascination. Sinan couldn’t wait to get out of here.
Gallmau took back the bottle of cider Sinan had refused. “Since you’re not going to eat or drink, but go straight for a tumble, tell us who you like. We might be able to introduce you to someone fun.”
The only two people in the room Sinan would care to share a bed with if he could were sitting across from him.
Saints, he hated himself for that.
He stood up. “This is a waste of my time. Drink yourself into a stupor and fuck whomever you choose. I’m leaving.”
“Sit back down.” Meri shook her head in irritation. “By the Prophets, you’re a prickly bastard. Do that sound trick of yours. We don’t chat about business with a whole room eavesdropping in.” She cocked her head in the direction of the Shield leaning against the wall.
Perhaps there was more to their mocking banter than simple spite.
Sinan took his seat and created a bubble of quiet around them. Meri still lowered her voice as she leaned forward. “Abarsam told me there’s a Witch Stone involved, and we’re traveling to Terra Amata before sunrise. Do you know anything useful?”
“Jacques gave me the same information.” Sinan was impressed Meri had succeeded in prying the truth out of the Kushian aquamage.
“How did you and Jacques talk without trying to kill one another?” Gallmau poured himself the cider he had offered Sinan. “By the way, it’s not easy to get me drunk.”
“He wanted to ask me if Rixende was dead. There’s a type of phasmancy—ghost magic—that can reveal if someone has passed beyond the veil.”
Gallmau stilled. “Is my sister still alive?”
“Yes, she is.” Sinan felt an odd flutter in his chest as relief flooded over Gallmau’s handsome face.
“What else did the fire witch say?” Meri demanded.
“Jacques thinks Gallmau wants to ensure Rixende dies, so he becomes the Dauphin and you become the future Queen of Soissons.” Sinan saw Meri’s mouth harden at the accusation, but her face otherwise remained impassive. “Is that true?”
Gallmau didn’t handle the question as calmly.
He half-stood up, perhaps to shout at Sinan or take a swing at him, but Meri grabbed his shoulder to stop him.
After a moment, Gallmau spat out, “That’s a filthy lie, and the next time I see that overheated fire boy I’m going to give him a good smack.
Now it’s your turn to answer me. If we get my sister back safe, what are your plans?
I don’t want a Bone Lord as my brother-in-law. ”
“I can’t believe we’re discussing this.” Sinan held up his hand and began counting off reasons on his fingers.
“I have no interest in marrying anyone, much less one of my enemies. I don’t want to act as breeding stock for the Grimoard dynasty, and as one of the Blessed, I’d be unlikely to succeed in that capacity.
Finally, I find it repellant your sister is being used as the prize in this farce of a quest. The whole affair is like a tawdry coffeehouse tale. ”
“That’s how the best stories go, though.” Gallmau settled back in his chair, not as skilled as Meri at putting on an air of nonchalance but trying anyway. “Fight the undead army, kill the necromancer, rescue the princess—the court poet’s working on a new poem along those lines right now.”
“Does your story include outright lies by the heroes? Abarsam doesn’t even have an invitation from Zhang Jue.” Sinan stopped mid-rant and flinched. His shadow shields, which reacted faster than his mind, were swirling around him, and Meri’s blades were less than a foot from his face.
“What is that?” Her voice dropped to a low growl, and the expression of hatred on her face was so intense Sinan kept up his protections even when Gallmau grabbed at her arm. Even the prince looked startled by her sudden hostility. She must have used her Gift to get her weapons into position.
By the Lady, she was fast, even for a speed fighter.
He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see his undead rodent servant perched on his arm, eyes glowing blue and whiskers twitching in interest.
“It’s a rat.” Gallmau had a talent for stating the obvious. “With funny eyes. Put your blades away, Meri. You’ve been awfully stabby lately.”