“Lastly,” Darien said, gesturing at the boat behind him, “my father sends you this: a woman our people discovered skulking about on the outskirts of Paratheen not long after the shadow invasion ended. We attempted questioning her but did not succeed in learning anything of her plans, origins, or reason for being in our city; my father thought you might have the resources in the palace to succeed where we failed.”
The statement was characteristic of Terintan self-deprecation when an especially magnificent gift was being given. Joslyn doubted Lord M’Tongliss truly lacked the “resources” to interrogate the Order of Targhan prisoner; presenting the prisoner to Tasia was a sly move that demonstrated his people had the ability to catch and subdue a dangerous killer, while simultaneously reassuring Tasia of his loyalty.
I am more powerful and cunning than any of your other lords. So powerful that I can offer the dangerous thing I know you’ve been looking for, despite the fact that you have not told anyone you are looking for it,the “gift” said. And so long as you give me what I want, my power and cunning will be at your disposal. Otherwise, I will turn that same power against you.
How long had M’Tongliss kept the Order assassin in chains? How many men did he sacrifice to catch her? Another commander of the palace guard might have been impressed by the lord’s ability to capture such a dangerous killer and put her in chains. But all Joslyn could think was:
The arrogant fool.
Her sword hand, which had already been resting on the pommel of her short sword, wrapped around its hilt. Deep in the pit of her stomach, she felt a sharp sting of regret for relinquishing Ku-sai’s Shaman’s Blade to the Brotherhood so that they could start producing the rune-marked daggers. She should have insisted upon having it back the very moment the first rune-marked blade had proven successful. But she’d been distracted by other events.
Darien reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled forth the telltale tin pendant of the sun with the serpent around it and handed it to Tasia. “I believe you may recognize this symbol?”
Tasia accepted it, running her thumb over the crest, expression troubled. “I do.”
Darien gestured behind him without taking his eyes from the Empress.
The two Fesulian men-at-arms came to their feet, rocking the canal boat slightly as they did so. One of them yanked on the chains connected to the woman’s wrist shackles. The woman made a noise that was something less than a word yet more than a growl and stood, wavering unsteadily on the bottom of the gently rocking boat.
Her head stayed bowed.
The first Fesulian stepped onto the dock, barking out what sounded like commands in his own language and tugging the woman up after him. The second Fesulian, the one with the chain wrapped around his fist, followed. Wise Man Jalid closed the boxes of silk dresses and apa-apa brizats and pulled them aside so that the final gift could be presented to Tasia. The Fesulians took a step forward, prepared to occupy the space where the boxes had been.
Joslyn held up her free hand. “That’s far en–”
Too late. The woman’s head snapped up, flame-filled eyes meeting Joslyn’s. Time stood still. And then all hell broke loose.