“What a comforting thought,” he remarked wryly.
She smiled. “I forget you are Harshini, sometimes, my Lord. Does all this talk of killing distress you?”
“Not as much as it should,” he admitted. “So how long has Hablet known about this forgotten law?”
“A long time, I think. He made Lernen Wolfblade an offer for his sister Princess Marla when he first took the throne. You can imagine Lernen's reaction. He refused the offer then married Marla to some rustic Warlord from the north of Hythria, just to add to the insult. Hablet has never forgiven him for that either.”
“So, for the sake of a forgotten law and a thirty-five-year-old insult, Hablet is going to invade Hythria?”
“That's about the strength of it,” she agreed. “If Damin Wolfblade and Narvell Hawksword are killed protecting Hythria, which is a real possibility, and Lernen dies, which is also likely to happen sooner rather than later, according to my sources, there are no more male Wolfblades and Greneth's pledge is void.”
“Marla has other sons.”
“Stepsons,” Teriahna corrected. “She has only two natural-born sons and neither of them has an heir. If they die, the Wolfblade line is at an end.”
“And if her daughters have sons?”
“Then they'd have as much claim as Hablet's daughters, no more. The pledge specifies a Wolfblade male and even Narvell's claim is tenuous, because he took his father's name when he became the Warlord of Elasapine.”
“You seem remarkably well informed on the matter of Hythrun bloodlines.”
“It's my job. Besides, I've been looking into the matter lately. The Guild might be apolitical, but we are hardly politically naive. The machinations of kings and princes affect us closely. We have a vested interest in keeping things stable.”
“Hence your reluctance to assassinate them.”
“I see you understand our position.”
Brak nodded, wondering how much he should tell Teriahna. For that matter, it would not be long before she learnt of it anyway. Once Damin reached Hythria, the news would spread like a grass fire.
They had reached the end of the wharf and took the carved stone steps up to the paved road that circled the harbour. Brak glanced over his shoulder, surprised at the distance they had covered. He had been so engrossed in the conversation he had not noticed.
“Are you hungry? There's a tavern not far from here that serves the best oysters in Fardohnya.”
Brak nodded his agreement distractedly. The Raven led the way a little further up the road to a small tavern with an arched entrance, over which was carved the words “The Pearl of Talabar”. The tavern was cramped, but clean and cool and Teriahna was obviously well known. The owner hurried forward to greet them and showed them to a private booth in the back that gave them a clear view of the rest of the room.
“Now,” she said decisively, once they were seated. “I have answered your questions. I think it's time you answered a few of mine.”
“If I can.”
“What are you doing in Talabar?”
“I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said I was sightseeing?” he asked with a faint smile.
“No, I don't suppose I would. Nor do I think you sought out the Guild to kill someone for you. So there has to be another reason.”
“There is.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Well? Do I have to drag it from you?”
He smiled. “I've come from Medalon.”
“Medalon? That's an odd place for a Harshini to be.”
“Not really. The Harshini who survived the Sisterhood's purges still live in Medalon.”
“Everyone believes the Harshini are extinct. Except you, of course. You are thought to be the last. And we all thought you long dead.”
“The Harshini are not dead.”
“So where are they?”
“I like you, Teriahna, but I don't trust you that much.”
She nodded, her eyes glittering mischievously in the gloom. “I didn't seriously think you'd tell me, but it was worth a try.”
The conversation stopped as the tavern keeper arrived with two platters of chilled oysters. Teriahna tucked into her meal with gusto, slurping the oysters from their shells with obvious relish. The tavern keeper left with a small, indulgent smile at the Raven. She caught his look and smiled.
“I grew up around here. Mornt is an old friend,” she explained, wiping her chin.
Brak picked up a shell and tipped the juicy contents down his throat. Teriahna was right. Seasoned with something he could not identify, it was delicious.
“Rumour has it the taste is the result of the oyster beds being in a direct line of Talabar's sewage outlet.”
Brak almost choked on the oyster as she burst out laughing.
“I'm kidding, Brak. Mornt has a secret recipe that he guards with his life. We've been offered a small fortune to torture the information out of him. We refused, naturally, and let Mornt learn of our refusal. Now we eat here for free.”
“A small price to pay for your life. I never realised the tavern business was so cutthroat.”
“You'd be surprised what we get asked to do.”
“No doubt.”
She swallowed another oyster. “So, you come from Medalon and the first thing you do is seek out the Assassins' Guild. Why?”
“You're the best source of intelligence in Talabar.”
“Flattery is not an answer. Just where were you in Medalon exactly?”
“The northern border.”
“So how goes the war? Are the Defenders winning? They ought to. They deserve their reputation, by all accounts.”
“Medalon has surrendered, Teriahna.”
She made no attempt to hide her shock. “What? Why would they surrender?”
“It's a long story, and one I have no intention of trying to explain. But the fact is, Medalon has surrendered and is now in the hands of the Kariens.”
“Gods!” she muttered with concern. “I knew I should have kept some people in the north. Hablet's not going to be happy when he learns of this. He was hoping the Kariens would keep the Defenders occupied for years.”
“I've other news that's going to please him even less. Tristan is dead. He was killed in the only major confrontation between the two armies.”
She shook her head. “Now that's bad news. He would have made a good King if Hablet could have found a way to legitimise him.”
“It's not the worst of it,” he warned.
“You mean there's more? I can't think of anything that would upset Hablet more.”
“Prince Cratyn is dead too.”
“I doubt he'll lose much sleep over that news.” Then she frowned. “So Adrina is a widow now?”
“Not exactly.”
“Gods, Brak! Getting anything out of you is like pulling teeth! What do you mean, not exactly?”
“She's remarried,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately emotionless. “To Damin Wolfblade.”
Teriahna laughed. “Is this your idea of getting even for that comment about the sewage pipes?”
He did not answer. The silence was heavy as Teriahna realised that he was serious.
“Dear gods! How did that come about?”
“The demon child ordered it.”
“The demon child? Now I know you're joking.”
Once again, he let the silence speak for him. The Raven studied him closely for a moment, then pushed her platter away. “This is no joke, is it? There really is a demon child? Who is he?”
“She. Her name is R'shiel.”
“That's a Medalonian name.”