Khochen clucked her tongue. “Out in the woods with you and Daranna. Maybe I should have left you two stone-tongues together. Happy in your silence.” Mehen bared his teeth, but the Harper only smiled. “Does the name Kepeshkmolik Dumuzi mean anything to you?”
“What does Kepeshkmolik want with me now?”
“What did they want with you before?” Khochen asked. “It’s a fair question,” she added, when Mehen growled. “I haven’t a side in this. So make me choose.”
“Henish,” Mehen spat. “You only want a story.”
Khochen smiled. “Sweetens the pot.”
And it was an old pain, Mehen thought, far duller, far less dangerous than stewing on what might happen, what troubles might lay over the horizon. Much as he hated to give Khochen what she wanted. “I was meant to marry their scion. Kepeshkmolik Uadjit.”
“A good match?”
“The best Verthisathurgiesh could broker. Kepeshkmolik is a wealthy clan, with many families. Uadjit is a skilled diplomat. A very wise, very proud woman with a very keen longsword.”
“Pretty?”
Mehen shifted. “I suppose.”
“But you wouldn’t do it.”
“I was in love with someone else.”
“So you insisted you would marry your lover.”
“There was no point in that,” Mehen said. “In Djerad Thymar, you marry for alliances, for eggs.”
“And those eggs wouldn’t be good enough,” Khochen finished, “for Verthisathurgiesh.”
Mehen snorted at Khochen’s sense of irony-it was a little funny-and startled the apprentices as much as the ghouls on their leads.
But then the Harper’s superior expression fell and Mehen realized she’d meant it-broken planes she’d meant it plain. His roar of laughter made the ghouls howl and claw at the ground.
“Shush!” one of the ghouls yelped. “Stop it! Loud!”
“She was barren?” Khochen said, but she was guessing now, and he laughed until he thought his scales would shake off and the ghouls would go mad of the sound.
“She was from a bad family? She. . wasn’t a dragonborn?”
“Gods damn it!” the female wizard shouted. “Shut up, you brazen fool!”
“Well, well,” Mehen said. “I suppose you’re not as observant as you think you are, Harper.”
Before Khochen could reply, the shrieking ghoul leaped away from its handler, yanking the lead from the apprentice’s hand. The young man snatched at the line, missed, and worse, in his efforts let his grip on the remaining ghouls slip. Two more broke free.
“Catch them!” the other apprentice shouted. “Catch them, quick!”
Daranna ignored the apprentice’s meaning, pulling her bow and nocking an arrow to it almost as quickly as she let it fly. It struck one fleeing ghoul directly in the base of its skull, and the creature dropped like a stone. Another fled past Vescaras and into the High Forest, scored by his rapier. Lord Ammakyl and two of the scouts ran after it.
The first ghoul turned, mad-eyed and slavering on Mehen. It barreled toward him, and Mehen hardly had time to pull his falchion free before the corpselike creature reached him.
But not an arm’s reach from him, the ghoul stopped, flinched, and scrambled back. Mehen took hold of the amulet. “Stop!” it barked. “Shush! Stop it!” It threw itself at him again, as if it didn’t care what the amulet did.
A blade reached out of nowhere, skewering the ghoul through its bony ribcage. “You are not behaving,” the boneclaw thundered, holding the speared ghoul up like a tidbit of meat plucked from the spit. “Mistress Zahnya has decided to be unwise. Do not compound that.”
“Ow,” the ghoul mewled. “Sharp.”
The boneclaw let the weaker creature slide to the ground. The apprentice who’d loosed it dropped beside the ghoul, casting dark magic that slithered over the ghoul’s blood-blackened skin and muttering to himself. The other apprentice turned on Daranna, who was staring into the forest, after the lost ghoul. “You fool,” she shouted, storming toward Daranna. “You’ve killed the other one, and we haven’t got time to-”
Daranna replied with the butt of her bow, slammed into the apprentice’s nose.
“Enough,” Zahnya said, emerging from her palanquin. She surveyed the damage, clearly biting back her rage. “Harper, heal her. And then, Mayati, burn the corpse.” She looked at Mehen. “What did you do?”
“Not a thing,” Khochen answered. “Your pets seem a bit sensitive.”
Zahnya glared at the Tuigan spymaster. “Give me the amulet,” she said to Mehen. “You obviously can’t be trusted with it.”
“The amulet worked fine,” Mehen said. “Just your ghouls aren’t convinced of it.” He tilted his head. “Maybe you ought to be out here, walking with us. Remind them of their place.”
“Don’t chide me,” Zahnya said. Her gaze slid to the palanquin, as if she were thinking about what lay within. “Push on,” she said after a moment, climbing back into her place. “And if you kill any more of my creatures, our deal is done.”
“Excellent,” Daranna murmured. She glowered at Khochen and at Mehen, who hoped dearly it wouldn’t come to a battle before they reached the camp and Farideh.
Chapter Fifteen
The Palace of Osseia Malbolge, the Nine Hells
If Lorcan’s erinyes half sisters had little idea of what to do with Sairché as their commander, they had even less idea of what to do with him. The last few days, each one he passed watched him as if she were trying to decide just how severe the punishment would be if she opted to swat him with the flat of her sword, like in the old days. Lorcan had made a point of avoiding their haunts and posts-he needed a better plan than “look like you belong” before he tempted the elite erinyes of the pradixikai.
But when he returned from Rhand’s fortress, full of words he hadn’t said and retorts he hadn’t made, keeping his guard up was the last thing on Lorcan’s mind.
If possible the wizard was worse than he’d imagined: unbearably smug, not the least bit concerned that a representative of the Hells themselves was standing in his chambers. Lorcan still wished he’d broken that smug grin, wished he’d given Farideh something to look at.
What did she tell you? Enough, he thought, blood boiling. He wasn’t an idiot. He hadn’t lapped up Sairché’s lies-and how dare she suggest it. He’d been at this long enough to spot the truth among the deceptions.
I cannot tell you how glad I am you’re safe. What else would she say, faced with her betrayal come undone? She promised. Oh, Lorcan thought, I’ll bet she did. He could just hear Sairché, “Not to worry. He’ll be taken care of.” I was trying-However she meant to finish, it only made him more angry. He’d told her not to trust Sairché, and she had. He’d told her not to talk to Temerity, and she had. He’d told her she was just another warlock and lied, baldly, for the first time he could recall.
He wished he’d prodded at Farideh, made her confess. Made her tell him every secret about that shitting wizard. Made her admit that she was in well over her head. Raged and threatened and made her remember he wasn’t some accessory she could discard-
“Lost, little brother?” Lorcan looked up-a trio of erinyes, one of the pradixikai and two lesser. Noreia with her wooly black dreadlocks, and the twins, Faventia and Fidentia.
Lorcan looked around. “Oh I don’t think so,” he said savagely. If ever in his life there were a time he would gladly go toe-to-toe with his terrible half sisters, it was that moment. “These are still my quarters. Do I need to find something for you to do?” Faventia and Fidentia traded glances.
“Baby sister might have something to say about that,” Noreia said. Did she say how I know him? Farideh had demanded. Why I didn’t tell you?
Lorcan bit his tongue. “She’d find it difficult.”