Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
H e put me to sleep! The monster! I rolled out of bed before I’d come fully awake, stalking towards the door and reeling slightly as I went. My warpath was interrupted by an exploding fireball that had been roosting on my flower hat, that hit me in the chest and knocked me backwards, on fire.
“Agh! Ouch! You’re burning, Yaga!” I pushed her down and brushed off the flames, which had barely singed my floral kimono. How many days had I been wearing it now? I really needed to change, either in the apartment in the Lydian, or at the Music Hall. Did I dare go back there? How long could Master Cutter lurk?
I quickly stomped out the remaining flames that had caught on the small rug by the bed. It was a pretty wool rug with some swirling green and red flowers that were squat, simplistic, but still charming. Ogre art.
Yaga went out, and I scooped her up, holding her tight for another moment before she squawked and flapped her wings, getting her space. What was she doing here? Not that it wasn’t lovely to see her, but this was a room filled with unfinished instruments that Rook the Luthier was working on. Even if he was vile for putting me to sleep—twice—he was still making me a custom harp. I literally drooled at the thought of playing a harp created only for me by the great instrument maker.
I walked through the door into the instrument shop and then followed the sounds of scraping to find the pretty ogre working in the reaches past the counter on a piece of curved wood, wearing an apron, pants, and not much else. His smooth pale blue skin was corded with lean muscle that clenched with every scrape of his tool down the length of wood.
“Good morning. You slept longer than I expected. Your sushi is in the back room’s refrigerator. If you’d rather have more conventional breakfast food, there are eggs and bread, although your friend might object to you eating eggs in front of her.”
I looked down into the round eyes of my fire-chicken. She looked up at me, bobbed her head and then flapped her wings, agreeing with how pretty he was and trying to get down. I was angry at him for putting me to sleep, but for some reason, the sight of all those muscles focusing on the creation of my harp diffused all my righteous fury. I tightened my hold on Yaga and cleared my throat. There was no way I was letting her loose in this place. “Ah, about my familiar. I’m not sure how she got here while I slept. She definitely won’t light anything on fire. Will you?” I hissed at her low.
He rumbled a low laugh. “She came pecking on the front door’s glass window a few hours ago. I already took the precaution of spelling the place against fire. Also, all of my instruments are strongly warded against burning. You don’t need to worry about your friend in my shop.”
That was the first time anyone had met my flaming chicken and said it wasn’t any trouble. I wasn’t about to disillusion him. “Um. Thanks. You let her in and put her in my room?”
“Yes. The shop is warded to keep your friend or anyone else from actually materializing on the premises. It’s all the theft, you see. Once I became a name, I also became a target.”
“Thieves are terrible,” I said, lurching as Yaga leapt from my arms and flew to a perch on a tool rack behind him.
He nodded at Yaga like it was normal to have chickens roosting in his shop. “Go and eat. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t join you. Once I’m in process, it’s difficult to stop until I’m at the next point in creation, and you must be very hungry.”
I was. Starving, but what I really wanted to do was stare at the artisan and watch him at his craft. Particularly his bare shoulder and arms, and back when he turned to retrieve a different tool. I wasn’t a very visual person, not when my whole soul was entranced by sound, but the pretty ogre was much more than pretty, shockingly beautiful, really.
My mouth watered, and I realized that I was staring at him, ogling like some females stared at my brother, obvious in their admiration. How embarrassing. I blinked and looked around for anything other than him. “Through here?” I asked, edging towards the door on the far side, past the cellos on the other side of the main counter from the bedroom.
“Yes. Please make yourself comfortable. Anything you need, let me know and I will get it for you.” His voice was even more appealing than I remembered it being, all smooth low tones that reverberated through my skin. I needed to sing with him again, specifically elven love songs.
He’d give me everything I needed? Let me think. I needed a custom harp, a duet, and a half-naked ogre, thank-you-very-much. No, I needed my music hall repaired, my position as Music Master made official, and the mayor to give the hall the taxes due to it for its hard work keeping the city whole.
I made some noise that was somewhere between a gurgle and a hum before I darted for the kitchen, breathing hard for no rational reason other than half-naked ogre creating a custom instrument for me with his bare hands. And bare chest beneath the apron. He made aprons look so good, also bad because I wanted to see what else it was hiding. Pectorals, abs, the whole thing. How many abs did ogres have?
None of my business, but I was dying to see. The kitchen was small, but well-stocked, like he expected to feed a starving music master. There was sushi in the refrigerator, so I ate that first, then went on to whip a few eggs and vegetables into a frittata, trying to clear my mind of all the unnecessary trivialities, like a half-naked ogre creating my harp with his strong hands.
Why was I so obsessed with someone I’d just met? Fine, I’d been obsessed with Rook the Luthier since the first time Hope had seen my harp, the one given to me by the ogre commander and examined it, then oohed and aahhed when she’d seen the skull fleur-de-lis and told me about the greatest instrument maker of all time. The harps division of the Holy Order of the Swords of Truth had three instruments made by Rook, and they were all untouchable by me, but I had my small harp, the beautiful instrument that had stayed with me for longer than any friend I’d ever had.
And now I was getting my own Rook custom harp. It sent a thrill down my spine every time I thought of it. He was also pretty, for an ogre, and his voice, the way he’d sung… I shivered and rubbed my arms before refocusing on my eggs, whisking them until they were frothy before pouring them into the pan and tucking the whole thing into the oven. It was a small thing, but cast-iron, heavy, built for evenly distributing heat. I liked the oven, the whole kitchen really, and him. I didn’t love the way he put me to sleep, but how could I really object when he was making me my own harp? Easy. I said, ‘I object,’ and then I’d escape to the hall where Master Cutter was waiting to publicly reveal my deception. Sigh.
I wandered around the kitchen for the few minutes my eggs took to bake, checking the cabinets, and the broom closet along with the bathroom door where a large shower stood next to a cabinet, which held a variety of men’s clothing neatly folded and smelling of lavender.
I looked down at my floral ensemble and bare feet. He must have taken off my shoes the last time he put me to sleep. Well, if he could be so officious as to determine when I should sleep after he kidnapped me, I could steal his clothes. I’d been on the bed of that hourly motel. I needed to wash my hair and clothes, but first, frittata.
I ate, cleaned up my dishes and then hit the shower. The five sprays were basically life-changing. Were ogre showers supposed to be this cushy? And the acoustics when I sang were amazing. I closed my eyes and sang the song, the duet, bits and pieces of it that were impossible to tie together all by myself, but still, it left me in shivers while the water enveloped me and I got kind of lost for a long time. When the water got cold, I blinked and quickly washed my hair while I shivered.
I needed to work through my plans, and usually music helped me think, but not that song.
I shivered as I got out, dripping like a drowned rat all over his nice dyed cement floor. Everything was very manly, industrial, efficient, yet beautiful. And that shower…
I shook my head and dried myself off vigorously on a pale green towel. I wasn’t some star-struck neophyte. I’d taken control of Singsong city’s music guild, and I was doing it well. That wasn’t the job for someone without a spine who was easily distracted by anything, even the most beautiful instruments in the world. I needed to take care of my music hall, whether Master Cutter was around or not. I needed to talk to the reporter about the ridiculous Jubilee, and I needed to make sure everyone who had invested in my music hall was validated for their faith in me.
Rook the Luthier was in Singsong City. He must not have opened his shop yet, or I would have heard about it. If I had his niece in my hall, no way the Music Guild would shut us down. I just had to get Rook to see me as an essential part of his niece’s musical growth, so he would vouch for me instead of just going along with whoever the Music Guild decided was worthy of the title of Music Master. He’d said that I was remarkable. Surely that was something. It had to be enough, because what else could I do? I couldn’t force him to choose me over someone more experienced and well-versed in traditional teaching methods. Except that he’d kidnapped me, so ethics weren’t really part of this negotiation.
I pulled on a loose black shirt that went down nearly to my knees and a pair of trousers that were far too large for me. He was small for an ogre, but still massive compared to me. I rolled the top of my pants and then washed out my magical clothes, none of which had any sign of bugs, so that was a relief. I hung them up, then headed out to check on Yaga. Also, I needed to see how my harp was coming along. Also, Rook the Luthier who would be helping me with more than a custom harp if I could manage it.
I’d no sooner entered his shop than his gaze snapped to me, his eyes gold and burning, seeming more than slightly irritated with me for interrupting him, but that irritation morphed into something more intense when he saw me in his shirt and pants now with dark spots from my wet hair. I grabbed the top of the pants for something to hold on to. Also, they felt suddenly precarious while my heart beat faster and faster, keeping up a rapid tempo.
“What are you wearing?” His low growl sent another thrill up my spine. His voice was so powerful, now filled with ominous danger that made me wish I was wearing some full-body armor. The heavy metal kind.
“A shirt. Someone needed to wear one, and since you’ve made your preferences clear, I was taking one for the team. Is that a problem? You mentioned that I could have whatever I needed.”
He vaulted over the counter and in a blur of motion was there. Right in front of me, smelling of varnish and sanded wood. He pressed his palm to the door to the left of my head and glowered down at me. “You’re wearing my shirt. An ogre wouldn’t wear a man’s clothing unless she wished to be undressed.”
What?! My heart stuttered and stopped while his overwhelming domination and manliness made me want to giggle. I wasn’t some female easily distracted by a pretty face, but man! “I’m not an ogre,” I said in a voice that only squeaked slightly at the end. I needed to control my tone like a true music master instead of a mouse.
He cocked his head and studied me, his gaze pausing on my mouth for some inexplicable reason before he smiled slightly and his golden gaze met mine like a lightning strike. “Then you must be for eating.”
And then he pounced. I mean, he didn’t really move, just his head, his mouth, and then my neck was in his teeth, including those delicate tusks.
I gasped and tried to pull away, but only succeeded in smacking my head against the door. The one behind me. The one with a handle. I just needed to turn the handle and escape, except that…
He didn’t rip my throat out. Instead, he triggered these feelings that were similar to how I felt when listening to the angel choirs led by my brother, the male choir that was transportive, sheer bliss, so absolutely divine that they brought crowds to tears and sometimes convulsions of rapture. It was like that, only deeply connected to the tissue and muscle of me, ecstasy made flesh. I froze in shock for another beat and then melted in a heap of bones and bliss, held up by his teeth and nothing else. No, there was also a tongue in there. Rough then silken, soft, strong, kneading my neck muscles like he was determined to decapitate me in the least efficient method possible.
I should have objected, should have done something, but my tongue had turned into liquid in my mouth and my arms had lost all sense of autonomy. No, my hands were moving, one to grab onto his strong arm, the other to smooth up the planes of his chest.
And then the pants fell down. His pants, the ones I’d borrowed. He jerked his head back, brows raised as he looked at my face and then down at his pants around my ankles. The shirt was long, huge really. There was nothing technically enticing about my pale scrawny knees, but the way he was looking at my knees, the way his lips curved and his tusks gleamed, I had a rough idea that he was considering devouring the rest of me.
I somehow got the knob to turn and fell back into the kitchen, him catching himself before he tumbled in after me. I definitely bruised myself when I hit the floor, and I wasn’t graceful in my struggle to pull up his pants and scoot across the floor away from him while he studied me with a flicker of amusement in his gold glowing eyes.
“I’m not for eating,” I gasped out, finally getting the pants up around my hips and then kicked the door closed in his face. I scrambled to my feet, trying to not look terrified by the big bad ogre who had made me feel like my soul was on fire in the pleasantest way possible. I was struggling to breathe, to stop the goosebumps from running over my arms and legs, but how do you stop goosebumps? I was in shock, more from his teeth not being on my neck than that they’d been there in the first place.
Holy harps of heaven! What was I supposed to do with all of this… I shook out my arms and stared at my hands, the ones that had grabbed onto him instead of pushing him away like a sane person. Clearly was not sane. I was used to that, because being obsessed with music was a normal other people didn’t usually understand, but this, this was a new madness that I absolutely had no time for. I had things to do, and yes, Rook the Luthier was firmly set in my plans if I could possibly manage it, but he was not a possible romantic interest any more than any other person in the world could be. If I got married, it would be because of duty to continue the line of angelic blood, not because some ogre, of all things, touched me and set me on fire.
It was so bizarre. He hadn’t even had music playing, and I’d still gone absolutely bonkers. I must still be buzzing from the duet. Yes, that was probably it.
I just needed to take control of music, my greatest strength and my greatest weakness, and put the ogre in his place. Rook. No, the ogre. But I needed Rook the Luthier to help me establish myself with the guild. No, I didn’t need anyone, but it would be so nice… And that’s exactly why I needed to get some distance from this whole situation before I ended up throwing away my career for some moment’s irrational impulse. He was probably feeling idiotic too, caught up in the music just like I’d been. Yes, that was probably what it was. He’d appreciate me bringing professionalism back into this unusual situation. He’d never kidnapped a female before, so this was new for him.
I started pacing the floor, trying to think, trying to plan, until my floral clothes were dry enough that I could carry them back into the tiny bathroom and change into them. I glared at the black shirt in my hand. It had been very comfortable, felt like a second skin, but I needed armor. Floral armor would have to do.
Getting out of his instrument shop was easy enough. If I could escape from my father’s estate once I’d told him I was retiring from the harps and would rather be married, I could certainly escape from a luthier.
I walked into his showroom, ignoring him where he worked even though he stopped when he saw me, his whole posture communicating his attention on me, his willingness to engage in conversation or other incredibly dangerous pursuits. I edged around him, careful not to look directly at him. My neck still tingled in a distracting way, and if he tried to eat me again, I couldn’t trust myself to push him away.
I walked around the counter and then went into the bedroom, not looking at him, not talking, thoroughly clothed in my weird yet respectable florals.
Once there, I went through the unfinished instruments to find one that would serve my purposes. A lute with only half its strings would do.
I played quietly, scales at first, just getting accustomed to the feel of the thing, and then I cut my hand on the nail protruding from the wall and splashed a drop of blood on my strings. They shivered and twisted under my fingers, wanting to come alive as I played, but I didn’t want an instrument to actually strangle the luthier. No, I was going to leave and come back before he noticed that I was gone. An ogre would have a great deal of natural resistance to spells of all kinds, but a musician would have to maintain sensitivity to music. I was going to exploit that.
The spell was simple, a sleep spell that would be impossible to sense until he was nodding off. It took me forty-five minutes of playing before I opened the bedroom door and peered out at the silent scene, the ogre sleeping with his body sprawled across the counter, Yaga roosting in the crook between his neck and shoulder. I clearly wouldn’t be taking the chicken. I’d be back before he knew I was gone. No problem.
I grabbed the wires and went to the door, walking right through it and then stopping once I was on the street to lock up behind me. I wasn’t about to leave Rook the Luthier at the mercy of anyone who happened to walk into his shop. He’d wake up from any serious disturbances, such as his shop being broken into. Honestly, I was lucky that he’d reacted at all to my simple sleep spell. He must be exhausted if such a simple thing worked from a distance.
Good. He’d get a much-needed nap, and I’d get some time and space away from the man and his shop before I went completely mad. And to think that I’d found him attractive. Ridiculous!
I headed east, towards the laboratory where I could find Libby, or at least her husband. My cell phone was gone, so I couldn’t just call Tiago and get an update about Master Cutter. I also needed to know more about ogres, such as how I could thank the big one who had saved me from the falling building. Also see if I could find actual documentation that Rook the Luthier was an ogre. I also needed to contact the reporter, and cancel the Song musician’s weekly meet-up which was tomorrow.
I walked quickly, down the dingy street of the undercity, beneath the lamps that hummed out-of-tune, tempting me to stop and fix them before I talked to Libby, but I seriously had no time or a harp. I stretched my legs even further. I really wanted to get back to the shop before the ogre woke up. He was holding me hostage with my harp. Yes, he’d bitten me, and I wouldn’t soon forget it, but he was still the luthier of every musician’s dreams. And I wasn’t sure I’d minded him nibbling on me.
The laboratory was an enormous structure, the dark side of Sing’s Library of Antiquities above it, the walk up to it lined with flickering LEDs in red and black that lent a sense of foreboding to the place. The face of the building was black, like a vampire castle in a cavern, growing right up to the roof of Song, so it didn’t need creepy light effects, but that was vampires for you, overdoing the vibe just for irony.
The door was guarded by a werewolf who gave me a second take before edging away from me.
I smiled at him and took a step after him. “Jackroe, right? Your nephew’s in our song study. He told me that you played a mean banjo. As a citizen of Song, it’s your right and your duty to assist in the…” He turned and ran, loping away from me like it wasn’t rude to interrupt someone right when they were getting warmed up on their favorite spiel. Oh well. I didn’t have time to convert a reluctant musician to the cause today. I marched across the grand hall, not getting distracted by any of the rooms behind glass windows that showed various dissections, surgeries, or potion making. If they did experiments in music, I’d be all over that, but this was just Frankenstein stuff.
“May I help you?” a woman asked, her lab coat not doing much to disguise her seductive vibe. I hadn’t looked that seductive in the ogre’s shirt. Seriously, why did he react like that?
“I’m looking for The Librarian. Is she in the lab?”
Her smile attempted sweetness, but she looked too evil villainess to buy it. She probably was truly sweet, but the darkness in her veins would always reveal itself.
“Ooh, you’re looking for Libby?” another female said, bouncing and beaming, flashing her fangs and red eyes.
“Yes, thank you.” I knew her as one of the people who had helped Libby get ready for her wedding. She was the Scholar’s ward, or something like that. I offered her a small smile. Maybe she had some musical aspirations that I’d somehow neglected to unearth. “Do you sing?” I asked as they led me down halls in the laboratory until it seemed like we’d wind up in the dungeon, but eventually, they knocked on a door veined with heavenly gold. When it finally opened, a goblin peered out at me, an impressive scowl on his face.
“Libby’s friend is looking for her,” the vampire said with a winning smile at the goblin.
He looked at me for another beat, then slammed the door in my face.
“Don’t worry,” the lab coat woman said with a seductive smile. She had to be part succubus with that strong of a vibe. It reminded me of… I absently put a hand over my neck, rubbing it while I tried to focus.
“Goblins are usually abrupt. I should ask if Libby’s busy, but she’s always busy working, so it seemed like a pointless politeness. I’m Mirabel, the Music Master of Singsong City.” I held out a hand to take hers.
She was slow in giving it to me. “Yes, he’s always like that. She’ll be out in a minute. I’m Doctor Sultry. Do you know Katrina?”
“Of course she knows me,” Katrina said, smiling sweetly. “I danced with your brother at the wedding.”
Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d hoped that everyone forgot about that. “Ah. That’s right. He didn’t kill you. That’s always memorable.”
Her eyes were intense, big, apparently kind of fixated on him after only one dance. It usually took less than that, actually. She must be quite reticent. “Is he really a lion of the Holy Order of the Swords of Truth? He seemed too small for that.”
I snickered. Maybe she wasn’t entirely obsessed. Richard would be so shocked to hear that he hadn’t impressed the girl with his brawn and build. “You can’t be too big if you ride a Pegasus. He is one of the larger ones, though.”
The door swung open again, and there was Libby, covered in golden cobwebs and blood.
Um.
“There you are!” She grabbed my hands and squeezed me tight, smearing blood on my skin. “I was worried when you missed sushi, particularly when Anna told me about the wall crushing you. Were you unconscious somewhere with amnesia?” Her eyes twinkled as she waxed dramatic.
I sighed heavily. “Ah, well, I got kidnapped by a luthier. Did Anna tell you about the ogre that kept me from being crushed?”
She raised her brows. “You can’t gloss over a kidnapping that easily. A luthier as in someone who makes instruments?”
Doctor Sultry cleared her throat. “You may wish to wash up before you continue with your visit.”
Libby noticed the mess she was making and got all apologetic and horrified. “I’m so sorry! Let me get tidy, and you too now.” She wrinkled her nose at my hands, but I only shrugged. I’d been on too many battlefields to be squeamish about blood.
Ten minutes later, we were settled into a little café inside the laboratory, a grow light in the center of the space, bringing sunshine and a little garden oasis into the creepy lab.
“So, tell me about this kidnapper,” she said, eyes dancing.
I started chewing on my bottom lip. “I guess he’s really into politics.”
“Politics? Random. What else? Is he hideously disfigured?”
“I wouldn’t mind hideously disfigured as much as blue skin. He’s an ogre,” I finally said quickly so we could move on. Obviously, that was all that needed to be said.
“Wait a minute,” she said, holding up a hand, brow furrowed. “You were kidnapped by an ogre after another ogre saved you? That’s seems like a strange coincidence.”
I shrugged. “They aren’t the same kind of ogre. One is a battle ogre, the other is an artisan.”
“Artisan kidnapper.” She wiggled her brows for some reason, which reminded me of Anna, and I couldn’t help but rub my neck where it was tingling and aching weirdly.
I shrugged. “I’ve got to get back before he wakes up from my spell and realizes that I’ve escaped. Could I use your phone to call Tiago? My phone was crushed forever ago. I also need to call this reporter the mayor is blackmailing.”
She smiled at me. “You have to get back before your drugging wears off? Wow. It sounds like you’re a true victim.”
I studied my friend, golden hair when she was happy, mousy hair when she was overworked and stressed out, because she was angel/demon with quite a lot of both. I was unbalanced enough with angel/elven, and a smattering of human that didn’t help me know where I belonged. “He’s making me a harp. He went from kidnapping to bribery, but he’s a stickler for having his victims stay on the premises until they get the deal all worked out. Right now, the deal is problematic.”
“What is this deal, exactly?”
There was no harm telling her, and I did want her help researching ogres, so… I shrugged. “He wants me to host his niece in my music hall, and in exchange for that, will offer some funds as well as a custom harp for me.”
“Wait, he’s paying you to have a little music assistant? How old is she?”
“I don’t know. Anyway, the deal is good, but at the moment the music guild is in my hall, deciding whether or not to close it down. It’s got a lot of problems still, but it’s come so far.” It was mine. I wasn’t going to give it up to some guild who hadn’t bothered to save it or Singsong when things had gotten bad.
Her brows rose in shock. “How can some faraway guild decide whether your music hall stays open? That’s ridiculous. You’ve done so much for it, pouring your blood, sweat, tears, manipulation, conniving, and wicked heart into that building, bringing it back from the dust. Speaking of, what are you really here for?”
Apparently my reputation proceeded me. “I was walking, and I noticed that the lamps in Song were very out of tune, at least down near Wonderland. Terrible hourly motel down there.”
“I think that’s a synonym. Terrible and hourly motels. You want me to take Pansy on a walk in Song? Okay. What else do you want?” She narrowed an eye, like she knew me too well. Did I always want something when I saw her? Usually food, but this time it was something she’d love.
“I wonder if you have any books about ogres. I need to repay the one ogre for rescuing me, and I need to know what to expect from the other one, the artisan.” Particularly if there were more weird ogre traditions, like the one about wearing a man’s clothes. When was my neck going to stop feeling weird? If I was going to host Rook’s niece, I needed to get a handle on all the particulars.
She smiled sunnily. “Finally, you’re asking me to do something I’m actually good at. I’ll do research on your ogre, compile a list of the best ways to kill him, as well as any other weaknesses he might have that you can use for your own purposes.” She took a bite of her sushi and shrugged. “It’s not terrible, but it’s not that great, either. I have too much money these days and it’s turning me into a sushi snob.”
I stole a roll off her plate, but she blocked my chopsticks with her own and we spent a few minutes going back and forth until my stick slipped and I sliced through the roll so it fell on her plate. She scooped up one half and I got the other, which was satisfying.
“Here,” she said, putting her phone in front of me and standing. “I’m going to check on something while you make your calls.”
“Thanks,” I said.
She waved my thanks away as she walked off, leaving me with access to the greater world.
I called Tiago first, and he answered right away.
“Hello?” he said, cautiously.
“Tiago, it’s the music master. Has Master Cutter left?”
“Yes. He went out to visit some of his contacts this afternoon, but he’ll be back later. He’s been cataloguing the Music Hall’s assets, the instruments, even the pipe organ hall. I believe he wrote down some dimensions, like they might cart the whole thing off.” He sounded terribly affronted.
“And the night classes?”
“The werewolves didn’t like me leading them, but it went well enough considering that Cutter was lurking around, ogling the musicians like they were vicious animals in the zoo that might turn on you. He tried to suggest that they leave without their lessons, but he quickly changed his tune. I don’t believe he’ll stay much longer.”
“But what if they really do strip the Music Hall down to the bones?”
“You can burn that bridge when you come to it. Anything else you’d like to know?’
“Yes. Has the music hall ever hosted an ogre that you can remember?”
“An ogre? In a music hall? That’s unlikely, isn’t it? They’re not a very musical species, are they?”
“Of course they are. They have several sections in their battle operations that use music to unite the troops, increase attack force and pivot for retreat or a counter strike. They’re very instinctive musically as a whole. And their drums are very intricate.”
“Yes, well…” Tiago cleared his throat. “I believe that if you could get the support of a guild, such as one of the more martial orders, you could confront Master Cutter and…”
My heart beat and my stomach tangled. What did Tiago know about my connections? Yes, Richard, my dearest evil brother had crashed Libby’s wedding and lured me out with his music, but that was hardly common knowledge. Also, I’d called in a favor from a brother of one of my former fellow harpists to give Anna’s husband a helicopter ride in his war chopper, but that was all strictly confidential.
“I can’t get the support of any martial guild.” No. I was counting on my position here to help keep me from being taken back home by my dad to where I belonged. At least according to him. But if I had an agreement with Rook the Luthier, then that would be even better than getting backing from a war guild. Well, I hoped it would be.