She ran her thumbnail down the length of his throat. A thread of blood followed it down. There, it is done, she said. All together, they watched Lord Kendrick s throat swallow and convulse, swallow and convulse, swallow and convulse. Then it was still.
A sad thing, she said, reaching for a napkin from the table. She wiped her hands. But not tragic. Not like the death of one of ours, or even her eyes glittered as she nodded at Suka and the Savage traitors like you. Traitors to the fey.
Suka grinned, stuck out her tongue, and ran her fingers through her pink hair. Like the elf, she had several piercings and tattoos, including a purple dog s head on the surface of her tongue. From its mouth protruded a silver stud in the shape of a bone, which she now exhibited to the company.
Their host stared at them then threw down her napkin, turned, and stalked out through the portico. Outside it was a bright day, the last of the afternoon. The torches were dark, the fountain dry, the shadows long. Leave him, she said, and they followed her to the long stairs.
Come, she said to Lukas, who hurried by her side.
You see you were meant to die here with Lord Kendrick. Three hundred gold pieces the high procurator of Alaron could have promised you six hundred, or a thousand. He never meant to pay. But I have work for you.
In the light she was impossibly lovely, with her straight, dark hair and pearly skin. But now that Lukas knew that she was old, hundreds, perhaps thousands of years old, he could see behind her eyes a hooded shadow. She climbed rapidly downstairs then turned into the cobblestone streets of the old town. The doors gaped open in the empty houses, stone and brick, and dark passageways smelling of bat dung. Flocks of birds rose from the courtyards, and rats scurried among piles of fallen masonry.
She turned under a high gate into the block of an old prison, its windows covered with a mesh of corroded iron bars. Lukas stopped her in the courtyard. We aren t following you here.
His crew moved into position, a ragged semicircle behind him. He raised his hand. Weapons were useless. His own bow was upon his back.
The lady turned around, then came back toward him until she stood uncomfortably close, her eyes almost level with his own. Even at that distance, her body and her clothes gave off no scent. Captain, she said, her thin dark lips a few inches away.
What is your name?
He told her. And me, she said. Do you know who I am?
I have an idea.
Tell me, she said. Her teeth were small and very white. He watched the tip of her tongue move between them. It was dark, and a peculiar shade of lavender.
I believe you are High Lady Ordalf of Sarifal, queen of this land.
A hiss escaped her lips, and Lukas could feel her cool breath.
Is that what you believe? she asked, her long eyes mocking him. Then you must also believe I have the power to destroy you where you stand.
He shrugged.
But I mean you no harm! On the contrary, I mean to reward you. Three hundred gold pieces from the procurator you won t see that gold, I m afraid. You wouldn t even see it if you dragged Lord Kendrick s worthless carcass back to Alaron. But I will make you rich men.
She blinked, and a tear formed in the long lashes at the corner of her eye. She raised her hand to touch it, pull it away, roll it between her fingers, a jewel now, or something close to it, a sapphire or a piece of crystal. She laughed, flicked it away. And not just men, she continued. Please, introduce me to your company.
The prison walls rose above them, three stories high. In the late afternoon, the flagged courtyard was full of shadows. She stepped away, then moved around the semicircle as Lukas named each member of the crew. What kind of creature do you call yourself? she said to Gaspar-shen. You must forgive me. I do not travel much. This is the farthest I have been from Karador in many years.
The genasi small for his race, blue-skinned, almost naked stood with his legs spread. What kind of creature? repeated the queen. Her gaze flicked briefly down his body to his eel-skin breeches. And you, a human woman, she said, moving to Marikke. Priestess of Chauntea you don t find it difficult, to share your quarters with so many males? She laughed, curtseyed sardonically, drunkenly, and then continued on to Kip, the cat-shifter. Boy, I hate your kind.
She made as if to turn away, but then turned back. Her beautiful face took on a hard, penetrating look. Touch me, she commanded, and Kip, hesitantly, as if against his will, brushed his hand against her outstretched fingers. She gave an exaggerated shudder, then smiled. I hate you, she repeated.
But not as much as I hate traitors. She stared long and hard first at the elf, then the gnome.
Suka yawned, once more showing them the stud in her long tongue.
Thank you, said the queen. That s quite enough. More than enough. Three hundred thalers each, she said, mentioning the Amnian gold coins now current throughout the islands. Three hundred more on your return. When you bring me what I want.
She paused, then continued: Captain, come with me. You and one other you, she said, pointing at Suka.
The rest, wait for us beside the dock. You understand, I need some security. Someone to guarantee you won t just sail away with my gold.
She gave the genasi a final appraising glance then turned away under an arched doorway. Lukas nodded, and the company drew back, except for Suka, who peered up at him. Your choice, he said.
She shrugged as if to say there was no choice. The two of them followed the queen through the archway at the top of a flight of stairs, lit from below. Under the level of the port, the walls sweated and stank.
And there were men here too, the first Lukas had seen, sallow Ffolk on unknown errands dressed in urine-colored rags, who sank to their knees as the queen passed. Behold the Claw, she said. The Winterglen Claw. Rebels. Warriors. Perhaps we should be quaking in our shoes.
She was barefoot. Her high-arched soles left prints on the damp stones, as if she dried them just by touching them. The Ffolk squeezed their eyes shut and pressed their fists against their mouths. Doubtless they will kill us in our beds, she murmured.
Two levels down, the stairs debouched onto a wide, low-ceilinged gallery, stinking of offal and slime, lit with torches. She paused.
Captain, let me tell you a story.
Again she came to stand in front of him, her lips close to his own, her cool breath on his face. Ten years ago, I had a sister, who was taken from me. A half sister. My mother s daughter, not my father s. She was younger. Much, much younger even than my own son.
You know, she said, that things are different for us. You humans can have many children in your tiny lives. An eladrin woman one, perhaps two pregnancies, each one lasting several years. We give birth in pain, you understand. We live a long time, and because of it, it is the youngest who inherits. Always the youngest. My sister was nine years old when she disappeared.
Where did she go?
The queen shrugged. It was a mystery. A traitor stole her from her bedchamber in the high citadel. Suborned six members of my dragonborn guards. They took her to Crane Point on the lake, that much is known. There was a plot to kidnap her and take her to the castle of the Daressins on Snowdown she did not arrive. Though we do not visit these places, still we have eyes and ears. A hippogriff snatched her from the lakeshore we saw it. After that, nothing. Except a rider washed up on the west coast not far from here, at the entrance of the firth. A rider s corpse, burned from the fire. This was ten years ago.
Maybe she drowned, Lukas said. I m sorry.
Are you? But you re not listening. Snowdown is to the east.
She turned abruptly, and he and the gnome had to hurry to catch up. Let me show you something.
At the back of the gallery was a spiral stair, its stone steps slippery, choked with filth. Barefoot, the queen climbed down it, unconcerned. The room below was lit with a charcoal brazier, and the air was foul. Three large prison cells, lined with iron bars, stood in a row.