But it wasn’t the prince’s friend who interrupted her slow circuit of the room.
Lord Chontas Taudde ser Omientes looked like he’d been hurrying, and the big man with him was clearly a hired thug. They could only be here looking for her—and the door through which they had entered was also the only way Leilis could leave. She froze, momentarily panicked. When she’d thought of bracing the sorcerer, it hadn’t been here, like this, with the pipes in her pocket and no way to defend herself.
Lord Chontas looked relieved, as well he might be, finding her here—clearly she hadn’t had time yet to speak to anyone—undoubtedly he meant to ensure that she wouldn’t speak to anyone ever again—she said quickly, “I’ll scream. Guards will come if I scream, you know! They’ll come right away—stop there!”—as the foreign lord seemed inclined to approach her.
To her surprise, Lord Chontas did stop, one hand a little extended toward her. He said, his tone an odd mix of caution and certainty, “Leilis. You won’t scream.” And then, with a jerk of his head for the other man, “Benne.”
The large man retreated back through the door—to watch for the threatened guards, Leilis understood. She said sharply, “He had better not try to fight Laodd guardsmen. They’re all King’s Own, you know. They’d kill him.”
“He won’t,” answered the foreign lord. “He won’t have to, because you aren’t going to scream. Leilis, I don’t wish to harm you. I don’t intend to harm you.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” Leilis couldn’t quite manage to keep the scorn out of her tone. “You just want your pipes back. Here, then—” She took the ruined pipes out of a pocket and showed them to the foreigner. Then she pretended to throw them across the room, but really she threw a comb that she’d palmed when she got out the pipes. The comb clattered across the floor, and as the foreigner turned to follow its path, Leilis darted past him and toward the door.
She almost reached it. But the foreigner spun back, took two long strides, and caught her by the wrist. The curse flared to life. Leilis, better accustomed to the silent clash of dissonant magework, wrenched herself free from the foreigner’s suddenly lax grip and jumped for the door again, and this time she made it.
But the foreigner’s servant was there, looming just outside the doorway, his broad, stupid features more alert than Leilis had expected. Certainly he was quicker than she’d guessed: His arm came up to block the hall. He could effectively block it all by himself; he was that big. Leilis, frustrated, slid to a halt.
“Don’t scream!” Lord Chontas said behind her.
The foreigner spoke with a kind of quick force that stopped her even as she drew breath. Sorcery? Leilis wondered, and suspected it was, of a sort. Besides, unfortunately, no guardsmen were in sight. Leilis turned back to face Lord Chontas instead.
The foreigner met her eyes. “You’ve guessed already that I’m Kalchesene. A bardic sorcerer. Of course you have. Surely it has occurred to you that I might remove the mageworking that is interfering with the smooth extension of your, your… own immanent self.”
Leilis said nothing. If Lord Chontas wanted to offer a bribe rather than a threat, she was more than willing to let him.
“It had occurred to you. And yet you are here. Well.” The Kalchesene looked like he wanted to shout at her, but he didn’t. He said quite reasonably, “Leilis, I will try to, um. Resolve your problem. If you permit me. All I ask is that you have enough hope to let me try.” He waited.
Leilis said drily, “And all you’d ask in return is these pipes.”
“Well, yes. Is that so much to ask?”
“I saw those twin pipes when you gave them to Prince Tepres, and I saw them when he gave them in turn to Karah. And I saw them this morning, all cracked and ruined, and I think I’m not the only one who ought to see them. So you tell me: how are you not a threat to me and to everyone else in Lonne, Lord Chontas, if that is your name?”
“Because I don’t wish to be,” the lord said patiently.
“You’re Kalchesene. Here because of the coming solstice—you intend to murder our prince—maybe our king, too, I don’t know—”
“I swear to you, Leilis, I did not come here to murder the prince, or anyone else in Lonne. I was grieved to know I might have done harm to that little keiso, and greatly relieved to find I had not. I swear to you, I never meant to harm her. Nor would I harm you. I’ll help you if I can. And I think I can.”
Leilis could think of no reason in the world she should believe a word of this, and yet somehow this assurance sounded true. More than true: honest. Lord Chontas was a Kalchesene sorcerer: He must be doing something to make her believe him? But he wasn’t using any instrument…