Nightbred(8)

“Go to the end and read, Miss Christian,” one of the jardin warriors urged. “The bit about the jewels.”

“Jewels, jewels.” Chris skipped ahead to the final paragraph of the summons. “Here’s something. ‘We therefore are well pleased to offer, for the elimination of this grievous threat, recompense to any oath-bound warrior of the Darkyn who should carry out a search to locate and secure the three gems. To he who successfully concludes this mission and delivers unto Us all three emeralds, We shall immediately grant the title of suzerain and rule of the territory of Ireland, including all present rights, properties, weapons, guards, warriors, and servants apportioned to the Irish jardin.’” She barely controlled a wince. “‘Given at Ì Àrd this first day of November in the nine hundred forty-fifth year of Our reign—’”

“Aye, all of Ireland for the jewels,” the spike-haired visitor crowed, interrupting her. “I’ve told that to my brothers as well. In but a handful of days it shall be ours.”

“This is not your territory,” a jardin warrior said. “It is ours to search.”

“Excuse me. Excuse me.” Chris had to raise her voice to be heard over the angry mutters from the rest of the men. “This territory belongs to Lord Alenfar, and he decides what happens here. All requests to search for anything will be made to him.” She turned to the visitors. “If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with the suzerain, as he prefers to manage any problems involving visiting Kyn. Although I will warn you, he takes a very hands-on approach.” She described Lucan’s ability to shatter bones and rend flesh with a single touch before she said to the spike-haired warrior, “Make sure your friends understand exactly what I just said.”

As the spike-haired warrior sullenly translated her words, the visiting Kyn lowered their weapons, and after a moment the jardin warriors did the same.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I have to take care of the master’s business with Mr. Turner.” She nodded at their swords. “Lord Alenfar doesn’t allow sparring in the tunnels, and besides that, stronghold visitors are required to disarm upon arrival. You may leave your weapons here; Mr. Turner will take very good care of them.” When none of them moved, she took out her mobile from her pocket and held a thumb over the keys. “I can call the suzerain and have him come down here to explain his policy to you. Personally.”

The spike-haired warrior translated one final time, and the visitors grudgingly moved one by one to place their blades on the counter.

Chris almost said “thank you” before she swiveled around to face Turner and tap the invoice with an impatient finger. “Now, about this ammunition back order. I checked the terms of the bid, and according to paragraph seven on page fourteen, if the supplier can’t deliver on schedule, a penalty charge of . . .”

As she complained about the problem she had already solved upstairs, Chris kept her back toward the men and watched Turner’s dour expression. A moment before she became convinced that they’d seen through her act, she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps moving into the corridor.

“Are they gone?” she whispered to Turner.

“Aye.”

Chris sagged against the counter. “Thank God.”

Jayr chuckled over the earpiece. “Nicely done.”

One of the jardin warriors went over and slammed shut the door. “You’re a clever girl, Miss Christian.” He nodded toward her jacket. “Your pocket is chiming.”

“Damn.” Chris took out her locator, which displayed an electronic dimensional map of the stronghold. A blue light flashed in the reception room on the third floor. “Mr. Burke must be back from the airport.” To Jayr, she said, “I have to go, my lady. I really appreciate the help.”

“Tell Lucan about this skirmish and the summons,” Jayr said, and then added, “When he’s in a gentle mood.”

“I will, my lady, and thank you again.” She switched off the mobile and removed her earpiece, and saw that the jardin warriors had also left. “Mr. Turner, you might want to talk to Aldan about scheduling our guys with the new guys for some quality time in the warriors’ circle. And while you’re at it, arrange for some interpreters for them.”

He nodded. “I believe I’ll close the armory for the rest of the night as well. Lass,” he said when she turned to leave, “what you did charging in here was very brave, but very foolish. None but that no-necked blowhard could understand you. One jab or swipe of the blade, and they would have done you in.”