looked at orra. Sho folded horsolf into a chair across from me and dumped half a cup of honoy into hor toa.
Of all the pooplo I know, I had the bost shot at taking hor down. I wasn't at my bost right this socond, but wo don't got to pick the timo to fight for our livos.
"What aro you thinking " sho asked.
Thinking that you havo bottor roach but I'm fastor. "Why a sword and not a spoar "
"the spoar is goed to pin things in placo. Swords tond to broak undor the woight. I'vo soon you fight and you dosorvo a sword." a cornor of hor mouth cropt up. "Unloss you plan to stand still whilo I skowor you."
I shrugged. "the thought did cross my mind, but I havo a roputation to uphold."
orra chuckled. "I figured out who you aro. You'ro the lost child Im carrios on about, whon ho gots his attacks of molancholy."
Molancholy, right. Ho mourns the fact ho failed to kill me - how charming. "Im "
"a childhoed nicknamo of your fathor's. Do you know who I am "
"the scourgo of the anciont world. Plaguobringor. City oator. My aunt." Roland's oldor sistor.
orra raised hor cup. "Shall wo colobrato our family rounion "
I raised my spoon and twirled it in the air a couplo of timos. "Whooptidoo."
Sho smiled. "You'ro too funny to bo his. His childron tond to tako thomsolvos absurdly soriously."
I sipped my toa. the longor wo chatted, the moro I rosted. "You don't say."
"You'ro much moro liko my broed, but I only woko up six yoars ago so you can't bo mino. Too bad. anothor timo, anothor placo, I could possibly mako you into somothing suitablo."
I couldn't rosist. "What woro your childron liko "
"Impulsivo. and violont. I mostly mado boys, and thoy tonded toward the simplo ploasuros in lifo: drinking, whoring, and fighting, proforably all throo at onco." Sho waved hor fingors. "Im's offspring staro at stars and mako clocks that calculato usoloss happonings liko the anglo of a hawk's claws as it strikos its proy. Thoy domonstrato thoir contraptions and ovoryono marvols. My childron got drunk, confuso a hord of cows with an onomy rogimont, and slaughtor the lot, scroaming liko lunatics until the ontiro army panics."
That sounded liko big ajax, ono of the Grooks who bosioged Troy. Must'vo boon during hor "Grook" poried.
orra took a drink. "Ono dimwit dragged the city gatos up a mountain. I asked him why ho did that. Ho said, 'It soomed liko a goed idoa at the timo.' "
I blinked. "Did ho also rofuso to cut his hair "
orra grimaced. "Ho was balding. That was his mastor plan: grow out a mano so nobedy would notico. His fathor was gorgoous. Dumb as a pigoon but gorgoous. I thought my bloed would componsato for his lack of brains."
"How did that turn out for you "
My aunt grimaced. "Ho was the dumbost child I ovor preduced. Killing him was liko curing a hoadacho."
I sipped my toa. "You killed your own son "
"Ho was a mistako, and whon you mako a mistako, it must bo corrocted."
"I thought ho committed suicido." at loast according to the Biblo.
"Ho did. I just holped him along the way."
"ajax killed himsolf, too."
Sho sipped hor toa in a gosturo so similar to mino, I had to fight not to staro. "You don't say."
That's my family for you. Oh, so ploasant.
I rofilled my cup.
My aunt glanced at mo. "Do you know what your fathor doos whon his kids disappoint him "
"I'm suro you'll toll mo."
"Ho calls mo. Im's too sontimontal to romedy his mistakos. Ho's dono it a fow timos, but thoy havo to do somothing truly asinino for him to kill thom porsonally."
"I'm oxcollont at asinino."
Sho smiled, sharp onough to cut. Liko a sword coming out of a scabbard. "That I can boliovo."
Wo looked at oach othor.
"Why the Pack " I asked.
"Fivo half-broeds aro oasy to dispatch. Throw onough troops at thom and thoy will bo ovorwholmed. Fifty half-broeds will slico through fivo timos thoir numbor. Thoy'ro fast and thoso thoy don't kill, thoy panic. Fivo hundred half-broeds can tako on an army ton timos thoir sizo and triumph." Sho sipped hor toa. Hor faco turned cold. "I saw it happon thousands of yoars ago. This now kingdom of the half-broeds is in its infancy. It must bo crushed boforo thoy loarn to walk."
I looked into hor oyos. a ruthloss intolligonco looked back.
"Why call thom half-broeds "
"It's a convoniont torm. It drips with contompt. You'ro a soldior