The Legend of Eli Monpress(328)

“No,” Izo said coldly. “But you will lose your Spiritualist tongue if you speak to me that way again.”

Miranda bristled, but snapped her mouth shut when Sparrow’s hand grabbed and nearly crushed her arm.

“Forgive my companion,” Sparrow said, his voice honeyed and dripping with sincerity. “She is a Spiritualist and a native of Zarin, and as such suffers from an overinflated sense of importance.” Miranda shot him a sharp look, and the grip on her arm tightened until she could no longer feel her fingers before he let go.

“It’s late,” Sparrow said. “Minds are tired and tempers are running short. I will bring your offer to my mistress and have an answer for you by morning. Thank you so much for your generous hospitality, King Izo.”

He bowed genteelly and turned on his heel, marching out of the hall. Miranda followed a second later, dragging Eli behind her. The thief went with a bemused grin on his face and a little wink at Sted, who was in the corner turning purple with rage while Sezri held him back. Gin joined them when they reached the keep stairs and fell in behind Eli, glaring straight at the thief with his teeth bared. Now that Gin was looking after their prisoner, Miranda was free to turn on Sparrow.

“We were just getting into negotiations,” she whispered. “Why did you make us leave?”

“Because it was time to leave,” Sparrow said. “Or didn’t you see the murder in the big one’s eyes?”

Miranda looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, she could see Sted through the iron gate shouting something at Izo, who was rising from his throne in red-faced fury as he answered.

“Stop looking,” Sparrow said sharply.

Miranda turned back to the torch-lit road. “Whatever you say; one night won’t make a difference,” she grumbled. “There’s no way you’re getting Whitefall up here.”

Sparrow’s grin vanished, and he looked sideways at her with a condescending sneer. “You assume too much, darling. There are two pillars that prop up the Council of Thrones. The first is Merchant Prince Whitefall; the second is Sara. If push came to shove she could have the entire Whitefall family up here tomorrow, and for a combination of Slorn, Eli Monpress, and the Heart of War, she just might. She’s been talking about that sword for years, but has never been able to find it.” His voice softened, and he tilted his head thoughtfully. “Who would have thought its current wielder would be traveling with the thief? Though it makes sense, considering the spectacular feats his group has pulled off.”

Eli burst out laughing at that, though the sound turned into a squeak when Gin bit him. Sparrow blithely ignored the entire affair.

“I’m going to check on Tesset,” he said. “Then I’ll drop by the infirmary to see this Heart of War for myself. You go back to the house and lock the thief down for the night. Tomorrow, I’ll answer Izo’s demands. You can come along if you promise to keep your mouth shut this time.”

“No promises,” Miranda said, halting at the door of the house they shared.

Sparrow didn’t even stop, he just waved his hand as he walked down the dirt street toward the barracks where the infirmary was set up. Miranda watched him go for a moment and then turned on her heel and stomped off the other way, looking for one of Izo’s men to bully into giving her her own building to stay in. Gin stayed close behind her, his eyes pinned on the water-bound Eli as he bumped along behind in his liquid prison.

Back in Izo’s hall the air was growing violently tense. Sted stood at the base of the stairs to Izo’s seat, held back only by Sezri’s slender hand across his chest. “You have no right!” he roared. “Liechten is mine!”

“I have every right!” Izo shouted back, standing before his throne with his hand on his sword. “Everything in this land is mine to do with as I please, and I will not have my rights disputed in front of my guests by one of my own men!”

“I’m none of yours!” Sted bellowed. “I’m no one’s servant! I am Berek Sted! I came back from death for this, and I will have my rematch with Josef Liechten even if I have to do it on your corpse!”

“Sted!” The demonseed’s thin fingers dug into the larger man’s cape-covered chest.

“No, Sezri.” Izo sneered. “Let the ox bellow. Your Master has been a good ally to me, but I will not be told how to handle my affairs. I rule this land, make no mistake, and I will use its prisoners as I see fit.” He sat back down on his throne, drawing his sword and laying it across his lap as he glared at Sted. “Leave. I grow tired of your tantrums. Tomorrow, I’ll decide what’s to be done with the swordsman. Beg your Master that I don’t also decide what’s to be done with you.”