A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings #1) - Kevin Hearne Page 0,109

must clearly devise a countermeasure to the Fornish net launchers. That tactic was both unexpected and successful. We have been conducting timber raids on their southern coast for generations now and never saw them. And maybe we should worry more about the greensleeves. A hound on patrol had its legs completely torn off, and its rider disappeared while his partner came to report one of the Fornish in the pines.

Volund has sailed to Tharsif with our first shipment of timber and should return with food and good news soon. For my ease of mind, he cannot return soon enough.

Sefir came to me with less pleasing news from the shore. A Nentian transport had arrived with one of the houndsmen whom Volund had left behind in Hashan Khek—Lanner Burgan, a stout red-bearded lad nearly my size.

“The word is that the viceroy is keeping Korda hostage,” Sefir said, arriving fresh from the new docks.

“The viceroy used that word?”

“No, he’s a ‘guest,’ but it’s clear.”

“How many Nentians are here?”

“Twenty or so.”

“Armed?”

“Yes.”

“And their ship?”

Sefir smirked in satisfaction. “Very flammable.”

“Good. You know it can’t ever leave.”

“I do. I’ll see to it on your signal. One of the Nentians wishes to talk. He has a message from the viceroy.”

“Let’s hear it, then, and find out what they know. But before you bring them to me, make sure the Raelechs don’t get to see them or even hear about them. Find some excuse to get them on the far side of the city until it’s over. Oh—and send La Mastik here right away if you can.”

My hearth frowned. “The flame priestess? Why?”

“I want her head to be on fire when the Nentians get here.”

“We could set our own heads on fire.”

“I know, but her shaved head really makes it look more impressive than it is. Basic intimidation.”

Sefir nodded, her lips curling up in a smile, and leaned forward to kiss me. “Merciless and a sense of theatre. I married almost as well as you did.” I smiled and agreed.

A half hour later a Nentian with a dark oiled beard and long straight hair draped over a pale yellow tunic was ushered to my hearth in the company of several small men. I’ve been told that I could learn quite a bit about any given Nentian by examining his boots, but I’ve never cared enough to absorb their status markers. Lanner trailed behind and gave me a nod of respect but kept silent, taking up a position off to the side and behind the Nentians. Like the leader, they were all dressed in light-colored linens or soft cottons; I get them mixed up and cannot tell the difference. No Hathrim would ever wear such materials when there was leather to be had.

I had to suppress a smile when their eyes drifted to La Mastik, who had arrived a few minutes earlier and was standing behind me and to my right. The bearded Nentian’s mouth dropped open for a moment before he remembered he was supposed to behave as if ten-foot-tall women dressed in spined lava dragon hide and with their heads on fire were commonplace.

“Welcome to my hearth,” I said. “May you be warmed and nourished by it. What is your name, sir?”

“Please call me Dhingra, Hearthfire. Thank you for seeing me. I am the chamberlain of Viceroy Melishev Lohmet in Hashan Khek.”

He wasted little time after that, asking questions about the walls we built with their Raelech stonecutters. “Such defenses are not usually the priority of refugees who seek temporary relief,” he remarked.

“I’m merely protecting my surviving citizens from the infamous savage creatures of the Nentian plains. My understanding is that you build walls for the same reason.”

There was more back-and-forth like that, his questions revealing what the viceroy most dearly wished to know: how many of us were here and how long we planned to stay. And eventually he gave us an ultimatum. We were to be guests for two months, and after that we would be trespassing.

I laughed in his face, and he scowled, taking offense.

“Two months is more than I need. Who is your god? Kalaad, is it?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes…why do you ask?”

“Make your peace with him.” And then with a word and a small expenditure of effort I set him and his companions on fire, head to toe. They screamed, and Dhingra at least had the sense to drop to the ground in an attempt to smother the flames. I lunged forward and stomped down hard on his head, enjoying the crunch