to me. My yaeger certainly did sniff something strange about that young dama.”
It seemed Igor and Bogdan had done their jobs and passed the word on—exactly as Ramson had orchestrated. Ramson hid a smile and matched his former master’s metal-gray stare. “Ever heard of the Blood Witch of Salskoff?” he asked. When Kerlan was silent, he continued. “I’ve brought her to you.”
Kerlan chuckled, tapping his pen twice, precisely on the tip of his finger. “No, you haven’t, Ramson. Not without something in exchange.”
“I’ve learned from the best.”
“You crawl out of prison, show up on my doorstep with no ranking, and now you want to make a Trade with me? I don’t know whether I should admire your bravery or laugh at your stupidity.”
“Yet still you continue to entertain me. You’re known to dispose of useless guests within seconds of a meeting, Alaric. It’s been over a minute, and you’re still listening to me.” Ramson leaned forward on the coffee table. “You want my Trade.”
Kerlan’s eyes crinkled in the cunning way they always did when his subordinates did something right. Ramson still shuddered to imagine what those cool gray eyes looked like when a member of the Order did something wrong. “Go on, dear boy.”
“Reinstate me as your Deputy, and I’ll use the Blood Witch to whatever ends you wish. I’ll hunt down the moles in the Order. I’ll bury our enemies. I’ll make the Order invincible.” Ramson forced a cruel grin. “She’s powerful, but she’s volatile. And it just so happens I’ve gained her trust. I know how to manipulate her, and that’s closer than anyone has ever gotten to her.”
Kerlan rubbed his heavy ring against his fountain pen. The sound was like grating blades on bone, and it seemed to help him think. “You failed me, boy. I gave you a mission—personally—and you failed. You know how I view failures…especially among my ranked officers.”
“People learn from their mistakes. I happen to be very good at it.” Ramson tried not to think of the night Kerlan had sent for him and given him the most difficult job in the seven years of his tenure at the Order. Kill the Emperor, Kerlan had said, in this very room. Kill him, and if anyone finds a trace of evidence that you did it, I’ll be first to volunteer you for the gallows.
Ramson had been on his way to Salskoff when he’d been intercepted several days later. The Whitecloaks had arrested him without cause, without trial, and left him to rot in Ghost Falls.
During those sleepless nights within the grime-covered walls, when the stench of sweat and piss had become too much for him to bear, one single thought had haunted him over and over again. If he hadn’t been stopped, would he have finished the job? How far would he go to remain loyal to the Order?
Kerlan was silent again, and Ramson pushed these thoughts aside. Now was not the time for useless sentiment. “I knew what failing meant for me, Alaric. Our interests were aligned. The leak came from your side. And I’m going to destroy it.”
The grating of the ring stopped. Kerlan looked up at last, and he was smiling. Not for the first time, Ramson had no idea how to interpret his master’s smile. He’d seen that expression when Kerlan had promoted him to Deputy. He’d also seen it seconds before Kerlan slit a man’s throat.
“I had already made up my mind,” Kerlan declared, and Ramson’s stomach tightened. Even before Kerlan went on, Ramson’s mind was racing six, seven moves ahead, mapping out the many directions this conversation could take. “I just wanted to see you fight for it. You know I like playing with my food.”
Ramson glanced at the clock. Forty-eight minutes past nine. Only twelve minutes, and Ana would be out of here safely.
He needed to stall for a little longer.
“You keep looking at the time, my son,” Kerlan said, and Ramson snapped his attention back. “Are you waiting for someone…or something?”
Cold gripped Ramson. Kerlan never spoke without deliberately choosing every word. Ramson’s voice sounded distant even as he said, “I wouldn’t want you to be late to your own party, Alaric.”
“Ah, very well, then.” Kerlan drew out a piece of parchment from one of the drawers of his desk. He began to meticulously unscrew the cap of his gold pen, each twist causing a shrill squeaking sound that sent shivers down Ramson’s spine. “Shall we make this Trade? I’ve been looking for a replacement Deputy ever