Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,22

was black and straight, and he was wearing thick chunky boots that seemed way too big for his slender frame. A studded belt hung loosely around his narrow hips, and he was holding some sort of bullhorn—the source, Loth assumed, of the roaring.

“Benji! It is you! It’s been years!” Calarian exclaimed. He lowered his bow. “Did you kidnap a human just now?”

Benji showed him a look of utter disgust which could only come from meeting Scott up close and personal.

“Wow, you’re still doing that to people?” Calarian turned to face the others. “This is my cousin, Benji.”

“Ebenjilarian,” the elf clarified.

“Gesundheit,” Loth muttered.

“That’s racist,” Benji snapped back. “Also, death to the establishment!”

Loth raised an eyebrow.

Calarian shrugged. “Most elves are collectivist anarchists, but Benji’s just an antisocial arsehole.”

“I believe in taking direct action against the state through civil disobedience,” Benji said.

“Antisocial arsehole,” Calarian repeated with a grin.

“Which one of you is the prince?” Benji asked, looking at them curiously. He shrugged. “The human started trying to bargain his own life for some prince’s the second I grabbed him.”

Loth sighed. Of course he had.

“Did you kill him?” Calarian asked, and there may have been a touch of hopefulness in his tone.

“No.” Benji shrugged again. “I figured if he really had a prince, it’d be more of a political statement to capture him instead.”

Loth took a step back.

“You can’t,” Calarian said. “He’s part of my quest.” He clapped Benji on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re living in the Swamp of Death. That’s so hardcore.”

“It’s pretty great,” Benji said. “I don’t have to talk to people. I can just work on my manifesto in peace.”

Grub swayed alarmingly in the saddle.

“Excuse me,” Loth said. “Calarian? I think Grub’s about to pass out again.”

“Right!” Calarian widened his eyes. “We really need to get out of this swamp gas, Benji. How do you, you know, not die?”

“My house is built on a pit full of charcoal,” Benji said. “It’s also built out of charcoal. And all my furniture is charcoal. Oh, plus I paid a witch to perform a spell of purification around the house, but I think she was talking a lot of bullshit, so I mostly rely on the charcoal.”

Well, that explained why he dressed entirely in black.

Benji eyed the group again. “Whichever one of you is the prince, don’t think you’re getting any special treatment. I despise your system of government, and when the revolution comes, you’ll be first against the wall.” Calarian elbowed him in the ribs. “But since you’re part of Cal’s quest, I suppose for now you can come with me.”

Loth took a cautious step forward. “I have no intention of standing in the way of your revolution, I promise. But if we don’t get out of this gas, my young companion won’t be alive to see it.”

Grub made a noise of protest, but it was overshadowed by him sliding right out of the saddle, forcing Loth to catch him before he hit the ground.

Again.

Benji’s house was indeed made entirely out of charcoal. It was a squat little cottage that had been built on a small piece of raised land within the Swamp of Death. Half-dead trees surrounded it, with wreaths of grey moss hanging from their branches. The cottage was only two rooms. One was filled with charcoal-smudged books, and one was Benji’s bedroom. He had, for very practical reasons, an outdoor kitchen.

The cottage wasn’t as cold as the swamp outside, but it wasn’t a lot better either since there were no open flames allowed. Jars full of fireflies, which gave the light a flickering, ethereal quality, illuminated the interior. Benji huffed and grumbled as he dug through his things, eventually dragging a few grubby blankets out of a trunk and thrusting them in the party’s direction. His angry expression softened slightly as it fell on a very woozy Grub.

“I’ll get him some water,” he said. “And a charcoal tablet.”

“He could probably just nibble on your bookshelf or something,” Calarian suggested. He narrowed his eyes at Benji. “Oh, where’s Scott, by the way? The human you abducted?”

“Tied up around the back,” Benji said. “He was covered in shit. I wasn’t going to let him inside my house.”

Dave and Pie went to see to Scott, Pie trilling as he perched on Dave’s shoulder.

“Please don’t let your dragon burn down my house!” Benji yelled after them.

For all that Benji was an antisocial arsehole, he put on a decent spread for dinner. Even Grub, once he’d had his water and his charcoal tablet,