“So I’ve been told.”
“Yet you haven’t fled like a scurrilous coward. You observe tradition, you give weight to propriety. This pleases me, despite your suicidal behavior. Which is why I’ve come to offer you an alternative. Swear yourself to my service, and I shall convince Plassus to cancel the duel.”
Chapter 25
“Swear myself to your service,” repeated Scorio.
“Only I have sufficient influence over Plassus to stay his hand. My terms for your Heart Oath would not be punitive. I would not take advantage of your position to wrest an abusive contract. All you need do is swear to join my Iron Vanguard for the remainder of your life, to obey me as your liege up till and if you ever supersede my rank, and place my best interests first and foremost in all things. In exchange, you will live, and further I will double the usual amount of Gold mana made available to you as a Dread Blaze.”
Scorio clenched his jaw as he studied the Blood Baron. The other man’s gaze was as doleful as a basilisk’s, without emotion or hesitation. His face might as well have been carved from basalt. But no. Deep in the man’s sunken eyes there flickered a spark of satisfaction.
The Iron Tyrant was not only confident that his offer would be accepted, but gratified to have netted Scorio so neatly.
“Thank you for your offer, my lord,” said Scorio with forced politeness, “as you do me more honor than I deserve.”
The Iron Tyrant inclined his head in agreement. “While true, I believe -”
“But I’ll have to say no.” Scorio fought the urge to sneer. “Thanks.”
Amity and Valdun gaped again.
The Iron Tyrant simply stared, expression truly blank now. “Then you’ll die.”
“Yes, that seems to be the case.”
“You prefer death to serving me?”
“Are you looking for an honest answer?”
“Scorio,” hissed Amity. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to!”
But the man’s influence washed over Scorio’s fury and failed to quench it. “Oh, I’m well aware. I’m talking to a slaver. A man who’d rather play at politics and who places his personal goals over the lives of thousands. A man whose games are doing more damage to our cause than the Blood Ox ever could.” Scorio grinned. “So, in light of all that, yes. I’d rather die than bend knee to this psychopath.”
The temperature in the room dropped.
The Iron Tyrant’s expression slowly soured. “I see. Well. In light of your emotional volatility and shortsightedness, I suppose it’s for the best you decline. I imagine you would have made an exceptionally poor servant.”
“On that, we can both agree.”
“Were you not already a dead man I would exact some small pleasure from killing you myself, but I suppose there’s no point in placing myself second in line. Instead, I will watch the duel with avid interest.”
“Lovely,” said Scorio.
The Iron Tyrant strode to the exit and paused to glance back, looking Scorio up and down. “What a waste. No wonder Praximar loathed you.”
And with that he swept out of the cluster.
Valdun stared pityingly at Scorio before following after, and Amity hesitated only long enough to shake his head. “I admire your convictions, lad. A pity indeed that they’ll be the death of you.”
And then he, too, was gone.
Scorio rubbed his face as a wave of exhaustion washed over him, and a moment later Leonis and Lianshi appeared in the tunnel.
“Do you want to be alone?” asked Lianshi tentatively.
“He doesn’t,” said Leonis. “He’s eager to satisfy my curiosity. Aren’t you, Scorio? What just happened?”
“I, ah…” For a moment he couldn’t find the words. “The Iron Tyrant offered to have the duel cancelled if I became his slave.”
“No wonder he looked like someone had shit in his undergarments while he was still wearing them,” laughed Leonis. “I imagine you turned him down really politely?”
“Something like that,” said Scorio, stepping down into the rotunda and sinking his head into his hands.
“What can we do?” asked Lianshi softly.
Scorio looked up. “Can you find Naomi for me?”
“Probably not,” said Leonis.
“We can try. Though I’m not sure she’ll listen to us. We can ask around, see if anyone has seen her.”
“True.” Leonis sighed. “We’d better start running, then.”
“Thank you,” said Scorio.
Lianshi hesitated again, then pushed Leonis before her, and they both departed.
Scorio sat still. His mind was numb, his thoughts blank. Eventually, he sagged down so that his head rested on the floor where it edged the sunken rotunda, and with arms spread out along the curvature he closed his eyes and sank into reverie.
Time passed.
Scorio didn’t move. Occasionally he frowned as memories played through his mind. Some moments as recent as Naomi departing in a desperate fury, determined to save his life, others as ancient as being cast through the Final Door.
He’d done his best to be careful this time. To think things through, to trust sparingly, to pick his own course.
But one moment of self-righteous anger had done more damage than he’d thought possible.
He must have dozed because he awoke with a start when someone spoke his name: “Scorio.”
He sat up, blinking away the sleep, mind sluggish, body torpid, and focused on the person who stood in the entrance, kohl-lined eyes narrowed, black-painted lips pursed.
Jova Spike.
She stood imperious, hands on her hips, chin raised, as self-contained and intense as ever. Her gaze was fierce, her scrutiny piercing, the side of her scalp shorn to a black fuzz, the other grown long and swept over to fall in a great wave to her left shoulder.
“Jova.” Scorio spread his arms. “Of course.”
“I heard you challenged Charnel Duke Plassus to a duel to the death.” She scrutinized him. “And that you recently made Dread Blaze. Tell me one didn’t lead you to think you could win the other.”
“Obviously not.” Scorio slumped back in his seat. “Everybody’s been at pains to explain just how impossible this fight is.”
She stared at him as if he were a badly designed puzzle. “You were supposed to challenge one of his Dread Blazes. How did you get it so wrong?”
“It’s good to see you, too,” he drawled. “How’ve you been? That’s nice. I’m doing well, thanks for asking.”
Jova made a chopping motion with her hand. “You’re not an idiot, Scorio. Don’t pretend to be one. I want to believe you have a plan. What is it?”
“You do me entirely too much credit.”
“I made the mistake of underestimating you once. I won’t do it again.”
“That’s sweet. And you have my apologies. For ruining your plans. Must be annoying.”
She tskked. “Our plans hardly hinge on your influencing Plassus, but I’d hoped you’d pull off another miracle. But fine. Keep your secrets. It’s not as if we’re friends. Just explain to me once you defeat Plassus how you did it. From where I stand it looks like suicide.”
“You actually think I’ll win?”
“I already told you.” Her tone was cold and sure. “I won’t underestimate you again.” She turned toward the door. “And congratulations on making Dread Blaze. Took you long enough.”
He arched a brow. “You made it, too?”
“Of course.” Her eyes gleamed. “After you beat Plassus we can compare notes.”
Then she left.
“Damn,” said Alain. “Women, am I right?”
Scorio jerked to the side. “What the hell, man?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Alain grimaced. “Bad habit of mine. I came to warn you about some stuff, but saw Jova and decided it was polite to let ladies go first.”