But now, with Wolf invoking his degan’s Oath and pulling the leash taut on Rambles, I had to adjust my assumptions. And what’s more, it wasn’t a matter of Wolf having made an agreement with the Upright Man-it was Wolf claiming the Oath Rambles had sworn to Iron Degan. The Oath was the ultimate contract as far as the degans were concerned. Swearing it not only got you one of the best mercenaries in the empire-no small thing, considering some degans spent years fulfilling their Oaths-it also meant you likewise owed the degan a debt as well. A debt that could be called in any time, for any one service. Ages back, people were said to have killed friends and family rather than break the Oath; now the biggest threat to breaking that promise was having an angry degan after you-which, given the degans I’d met, was bad enough.
The truly daunting bit, though-and the one that had given me pause when I’d sworn my Oath with Degan-was the provision that said any degan could claim your Oath if the degan you’d sworn it to died. How Wolf had found out about the deal between Rambles and Iron I had no idea; all I knew was that if he’d dug up the deal on Rambles, then it was possible he could find out about the Oath between me and Degan-the one I’d never fulfilled.
Whether Degan’s change in status meant he could claim it, I had no idea, but I wasn’t in a hurry to find out.
“Of course,” continued Wolf, his blade still lingering about Rambles’s neck, “you could always sever the Oath.” He flicked his wrist, drawing the barest hint of his sword’s tip across Rambles’s throat, only to bring the blade back to its original position before the Upright Man had time to do more than gasp. A thin red line began seeping from Rambles’s skin. “Is this your desire, little dog?”
I could practically hear Rambles’s teeth grinding from across the room. “No.”
“Good.” Wolf drew back his blade and wiped it clean with a napkin. “If it helps, you and I are almost done with our business.”
“Not soon enough for me.” Rambles picked up his own napkin and pressed it to his neck, then drew it away and frowned at the stain. “You could have learned a lot from your late sword brother about dealing with people. He used his words almost as well as his sword.”
Wolf smiled as he finished polishing his blade. “Perhaps, but as much as I may have loved Iron, I can’t help noticing that I’m alive while he’s in the ground.” He tossed the napkin on the table. “Now, all of you leave us. I need to speak to the Gray Prince alone.”
Rambles, napkin back at his neck, glared at Wolf one last time and stormed out of the room. He didn’t even look at me. The doxy paused long enough to take a last sweet biscuit from the table and followed him out.
For her part, Nijjan stepped partway through the doorway, then paused. She looked over and met my eye.
“It wasn’t just because you’re in trouble,” she said. “I wouldn’t cross you just for that.”
“Then why?”
She looked over her shoulder at Wolf. “Ask him.” Then she was out of the room and closing the door behind her.
I looked back at Wolf and cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”
He gestured at the table, inviting me to sit. I remained where I was, up against the wall.
“A clever woman, Nijjan,” he said, smiling at my caution. “And one who knows how to drive a bargain.”
“She wouldn’t have survived very long as an Upright Woman if she didn’t.”
“Likely not.” He picked up a fluted brass goblet and took a deliberate sip. “So. You want to know what I offered her, yes?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Then you’ll first tell me what happened to Iron Degan.”
I crossed my arms. “Seems like I’ve been asked to retell that tale a lot lately.”
“Then it should come easily to your tongue.”
“Like I told the Order, Shadow already had Iron’s blade at his side when-”
The brass goblet crashed into the wall beside me with a hollow clang, taking a gouge out of the plaster and sending a spray of wine against the side of my face in the process. I flinched, and hated myself for doing so.
“I’m not interested in the tale you told the Order,” he said, reaching across the table to pick up Rambles’s goblet, along with the half-full decanter of wine. “The council has closed the matter. What I am interested in is what truly happened to Iron Degan, and how the sudden disappearance of our mutual friend. .” Here Wolf paused to glance at the sword on my back. “. . plays into that.”
I didn’t bat an eye at the reference. Wolf had heard me speak to Fowler about Degan’s blade back in Barrab, had seen the bundle when we escaped the town-it didn’t surprise me that he knew about it. What did impress me was they he’d been able to feign disinterest so well up to this point.
“What’s Degan’s disappearance to you?” I said.
Wolf rolled the goblet in his hand, took a sip. “I’m a degan,” he said. “Bronze is my sword brother. We are, in many ways, of the same tribe. It’s only natural I be worried about him.”
“Bullshit. You don’t kill one Gray Prince and set another up just because you haven’t gotten a letter in a couple months. You want something: something I have or something I know-and it must be pretty damn important if you’re willing to hold Crook Eye’s death over me to get it.”
“I didn’t kill Crook Eye to hold him over you.”
So Wolf had done it. I wasn’t exactly surprised, but it was good to know nonetheless.
“Then why’d you dust him?” I said.
Wolf looked me in the eye for the first time since I’d entered the room. “To let you know that I could, of course. To assure you that even a Gray Prince isn’t beyond my reach.”
My blood seemed to cool and thicken in my veins. As threats went, that was a pretty damn good one.
“And all the rumors you had Rambles spread around?” I said. “Why do that if you just wanted to show me you can dust a Prince?”
Wolf shrugged. “A death can be easy to explain away, but a death laid at your door? Much harder. Not fatal,” he added, “but harder. Plus, you needed to know I had resources among your tribe.”
I looked at Wolf for a long moment-at his easy pose, his mocking smile, the confident gleam in his eye. I looked at him and realized he’d played me since before I’d met him. That he’d been playing me for weeks, if not more. That he thought he had me.
To hell with this.
I bent down and retrieved my weapons. “If you want answers,” I said, resheathing my steel, “you can come and bend the knee or make an offer like any other thug on the street.” I turned and reached for the door, noticing the handle was normal on this side. “I stopped giving answers in exchange for threats a long time ago.”
“You speak like someone with options. Like someone who has a choice. The only choices here belong to me.”
“You mean choosing whether to dust me or let me walk out the door?” The handle turned under my hand. The door latch clicked.
“No. I mean making your life much easier, or much harder. You think I’ll stop at placing one dead Prince at your feet? At two? Three? What if I toss a trio of White Sashes in as well? Maybe attach Kells’s name to their deaths while I’m at it. Or maybe Fowler’s. How long, do you think, before the empire comes sniffing after you then? Before the Kin decide it’s smarter to kill you than let you live?”
I laughed, though not as convincingly as I might have liked. “Multiple Gray Princes? A trio of Sashes?” I looked back over my shoulder. “Degan or no, no one’s that good. Not even you.”
A feral smile spread across Wolf’s lips, almost lazy in its danger. “You’ve spent too much time around my more civilized sword brethren. Not all of us spend our nights wandering the gutters of Ildrecca.” He sat up. “I am Silver Degan, and I am of the Azaar. I’ve left smoldering villages and salted fields in my wake, trampling entire tribes in the dust of my passing. Soldiers curse and widows weep at the sound of my name. What are the threats of back-alley princes and their dagger-wielding thugs to me?”