A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings #1) - Kevin Hearne Page 0,125

fleshy, sedentary things with jowls and wattles and jiggling bellies. They also have actual goods to sell or are willing to spin tales of what they can bring you in exchange for a bag of coin. Saviič, however, feigned weariness when I asked for details of his trade and asked to be left alone until the morrow.

I’d been expecting him to say he was the lone survivor of a larger ship pulled down by a longarm or something like that—some kind of plausible lost-at-sea story—but instead he claimed to be seeking new business all by himself across the ocean. I was beginning to think Saviič imagined me to be infinitely gullible.

Since I had the name and approximate location of his country, which was all the court really cared about, I was willing to let the matter drop. I wanted to consult with Teela Parr in any case on how I should proceed in the face of Saviič’s bald lies. If he wasn’t a merchant or a refugee, we had to wonder at his true purpose. I didn’t wish to leap to conclusions, but here is what I had noted to that point: he was a desperate man with a deep and abiding love for his religious text. Hunger and zealotry are dangerous on their own, but combine them? Reinei bring us peace!

On a completely different note, I discovered during a lunch break that Saviič doesn’t care for mustard. We may not get along very well much longer.

—

There is so much to learn, and it is difficult to suppress my academic urges in favor of a cold political goal. I wish to map out the morphological drift between the ancient language and modern Eculan, but I can only do bits and pieces while doggedly trying to eke out some answers from Saviič.

Teela Parr took my map and a summary of my discoveries to the mistral and I assume a coterie of assorted courtiers, all brightly dyed and coiffed and brimful of sage advice. And I must chastise myself for mocking them, for what came back was not an immediate call to send out boats or even a tempest to find the island nation of Ecula but a reasoned request for more information and some pointed and relevant questions to put to Saviič as soon as possible. Teela Parr invited me back to the posh Silverbark Room to discuss it.

“There’s no reason we should discuss such things in a windless dungeon,” she said, and I couldn’t agree more. Someone from the palace kitchens came in with tea—our native leaf from the Teabush Range; no exotic Fornish blends served here. I actually preferred it. There were also some cakes glazed with sugar frosting drizzled with an orange clove sauce that nearly made me swoon.

“Oh,” I said around a mouthful. “Mm. If this is my reward for my work, I consider myself well paid.”

Teela smiled. “I’ll be sure to pass on your compliments to the chef. I’m sure we can convince her to make them again.”

“Please do. Her work makes me glad to be alive.”

“And your work is very important, too. Mistral Kira asked me to relay her personal thanks for your efforts.”

“I’m grateful she trusted me with such a project. What news from the court?”

“Anyone who’s seen the Bone Gi—I mean Eculan—knows he must be lying about being a merchant. That’s agreed. But the reactions to the lie are mixed. The merchant families now have serious doubts that Ecula has anything to offer. If Saviič thought we would believe he’s a merchant—if being naked and destitute is a representative sample of their merchant class—then there’s not much opportunity there.”

I snorted. “The opportunities are endless! Why, we could start out by selling them pants. Are you telling me no one wants to become the Pants Baron of Ecula?”

She indulged me with a polite smile at my joke but pressed on. “I think the greedy lights in their eyes snuffed out once the military minds spoke up. They wondered aloud what he’s really hiding. It’s most likely not something we would welcome. You don’t lie that badly when you want to be friends.”

“No, Saviič is certainly not a trained diplomat.”

“Precisely. The question is what he is trained for.”

“So I need to get him to admit he lied and tell the truth? I’m not sure we could trust anything he says.”

“Agreed. Direct confrontation on that point probably won’t work. The mistral suggests that you delve into his religion since he seems so fervent about it. His