“Karak will kill us for this blasphemy,” Matthew muttered.
“Blasphemy? I think not,” said Romeo. “What we propose is directly in line with what Karak preaches. His laws are clear as day. Do not kill without reason. Do not murder the unborn. Do not take what is not yours. Do not defile the temple of worship. Do not turn away from Karak. What we will be doing is adhering to those principles, not breaking them. Yes, he would kill us if he discovered our plans, but it is certainly not blasphemy.”
“And if anyone has broken those decrees,” Cleo added, “it is Karak himself. He has turned away from his own teachings by stripping us of the freedom he promised. If his temple is his law, then he has defiled it. He is in the wrong, not us.”
Matthew dropped his head, took a deep breath. “So this is why we meet at night. You two might not have tried to kill me on the way here, but what you ask is little different. To do this, to work against our deity, would mean signing my own death warrant.”
Romeo shrugged. “Could be. But then, we would be doing the same, would we not? The fewer who know, the better.”
It seemed so surreal. Matthew couldn’t get over the fear that he was being played, that somewhere in the room was a mystical object sending his every word and action back to his deity. But even though he knew not to trust the Conningtons, their every word made sense. Had he been younger and more devout, he would have left the moment they began their profane tirade, but as a high merchant and unquestioned ruler of Port Lancaster, he owed it to his people see if there were an opportunity here.
“What is your plan?” he asked.
“Weapons,” said Romeo.
“Weapons?”
Cleo slapped the table. “Yes, weapons. Our cache is empty in that regard. The acolytes load your boats with the steel we forge.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Two seasons ago you purchased a large reserve of weaponry from us to outfit your sellswords,” said Romeo. “Two thousand swords, battle-axes, lances, mauls-you name it.”
“And?”
“And I assume you still have them. We need them.”
This time it was Matthew’s turn to laugh. “You cannot be serious? You want me to arm your populace with weapons you could very well use against me? And free of charge? Ha!”
“Silly, silly Matthew,” scolded Cleo. “We told you in our letter what our compensation would be. Right at this moment there are sixty carriages filled with grain, vegetables, and salted meats from Omnmount sitting a mile from your city gates, just waiting to hear that the deal is done. And we do not want the steel for us.”
Sixty carriages of grain, vegetables, and salted meats. That amount of food could support the remaining citizens of Port Lancaster for months. Matthew’s eyes widened.
“Ah, the deal is looking better, is it not?” asked Romeo.
He felt lightheaded. “Perhaps. But if the weapons aren’t for you, who are they for?” he asked.
“We have birdies in our god’s army,” Romeo said. “And those birdies have told us that the one who now holds Karak’s ear is wary of Ashhur’s dark-skinned children in Ker. They are physically superior to the rest, perhaps smarter, and certainly more capable. They have been independent of Paradise for some time now, and word has it that our Lord is bent on invading their lands last. The steel is for them.”
The deal was becoming more and more tempting for Matthew. Part of him tried to steer away from acceptance, but the logical part of him, the part that believed in the words of the god more than the god himself, began to sway.
“And you are willing to take this chance?” he asked. “What if Karak discovers us?”
“The way things are going, we are dead men already,” said Romeo with a shrug. “If our time is about to end, we might as well go out trying to do something to stop it.”
Matthew sat back, chin cupped in his hand. He was so deep in thought that he barely felt the tug on his blood-stained tunic. He turned to see Moira staring at him, concern in her icy blue eyes.
“A word?” she asked.
“Ah, dear Moira wishes to advise her brave Matthew!” exclaimed Cleo.
Bren rolled his eyes. “Shut it,” the burly man said. “I’m in pain, and I don’t need to listen to your squealing voice.”
“Calm yourself, Bren,” said Matthew. He stood from his chair, looked at Moira, and then gestured toward the corner. The slender woman rose to join him.
“What is it?” he asked in a whisper when they were far enough away from the table.
“I am not sure this is such a good idea,” she replied. “You brought me here to protect you, and right now, this is the best protection I can offer. Turn them down. Walk away from here.”
“I’m surprised at you, Moira.”
“Why?”
“You hate Karak more than anybody. I would think you’d be all for their plan.”
“I hate Karak, but I am not stupid,” she said. “Are you sure you can trust these two?”
He shook his head. “Of course not.”
“And yet you’re seriously considering working with them.”
“Strife makes for strange bedfellows. And besides, everything they’ve said makes sense. It’s not as if I haven’t had these very thoughts before tonight, and while I can’t trust them, I can trust their goods. Who am I to turn them away if they can feed this city? What is a cache of weapons worth when your people are dying in the streets from starvation?”
“You intend to accept.”
“I do.”
“Then I hope you’re not being an imbecile.”
He went to grab her shoulder, but she eluded his grasp.
“You don’t know me,” he said, anger churning in his gut. “Remember, you’re my property from now until Peytr pays me back. Disrespect me again, and I’ll have you cleaning the privy nightly.”
With that he swiveled on his heels and marched back toward the brothers. He bit his lip, half expecting a shortsword to plunge through his back and out his sternum. Peering over his shoulder, he met Moira’s cold stare and thanked the gods his harsh words hadn’t been met with a harsh reaction.
Stupid, Matthew. Stupid.
Romeo and Cleo both rose from their seats as he approached. Bren just stared at him, looking pale from blood loss. Romeo stepped around the table.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked. Amazingly enough, the fat man seemed nervous.
“We have a deal,” he answered, and stuck out his hand.
Cleo began clapping in that queer fashion of his while they shook.
“My only question,” said Matthew, “is how I am supposed to get the goods to the people they’re meant for?”
“Fear not,” Romeo said. “We have that covered. On the last night of spring, we shall send a boat to retrieve them. Until then, enjoy the goods we have given you, which is another great show of trust on our part.” He jutted his chin at Bren. “But do not betray us, Matthew, for I’m certain your brute will do little to defend you should we send our master of arms, Quester the Crimson Sword, to collect on your debt.”
“You will get what we discussed,” said Matthew. “When I make a deal, it is final.”
“I know,” Romeo said with a grin. “Which is why we came to you first.”
They released each other’s hands and stepped away. Cleo came up and patted his brother on the shoulder while Bren struggled to rise from his chair. Moira appeared by his side and helped him stand. Matthew hoped his bodyguard hadn’t lost too much blood to recover. Though an oaf, Bren really was the best protection money could buy. He nodded to both of them, and they started for the curtain.
“Oh, dear Matthew, one more thing,” Cleo sang out before they left the room.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Do you still have the monstrosity your great-grandfather crafted for Karak when the Mount Hailen armory first opened?”