what happened at the chowder house today. I’m to relay their apologies to you.” After a brief pause, she added, with a hint of moisture in her eyes, “And you have mine as well.”
“Nara, there’s no need—”
She shook her head, cutting me off and plowing ahead. She was internalizing the blame and did not want to hear that she bore no responsibility for the attack. “Toying with the Nentians was a mistake they’re not going to repeat. The Lung did get his man into place as planned, and he has already been contracted by two different Nentian expatriates willing to pay for the Raelech bard’s death. They will be arrested very soon—perhaps even as we speak—and their assets seized.”
“Incredible. They’re still angry with him even though Abhi’s story represents something positive for their country?”
“Yes. Our spies have updated us, and it’s primarily the portrayal of Melishev that has them incensed. One of them is from Hashan Khek and knows Melishev personally. He thinks Melishev has a real shot at becoming their king someday.”
“So to spread goodwill and convince us that Nentians are nothing like Melishev Lohmet, they arrange for someone to be assassinated.”
“Counterproductive in public relations, yes. But Föstyr—I mean the Lung—has concerns that various agents may be engaged already. This friend of Melishev basically got to the docks and put a bounty on Fintan’s head, winner take all. So in an abundance of caution we are taking extreme care of the bard this evening and extending protection to you as well. Once it’s made public tomorrow that the Nentians have been arrested and no one will be getting paid, we should have no more of this sewage.”
“I see.” There was a pause since none of us knew the precise thing to say next. “Uh…would you like some tea?” I offered.
“Thank you, no, I must be going,” the gerstad said, and Kindin Ladd held up a hand and shook his head. “But before I do, how is your wound?”
“Painful but nothing that won’t heal eventually.”
“You should get some rest,” she said.
“Yes, I fear we disturbed you. Not our intention,” Kindin assured me.
The gerstad bid farewell and departed, leaving me there with the Priest of the Gale.
“Please, Master Dervan, return to your rest. If you will just leave me that candle, I will be perfectly content.”
“Oh. You’re sure?” I asked, handing it to him, relieved that I wouldn’t have to play host.
“I’ve already eaten, and I imagine I can get water if I become thirsty.”
“Absolutely. Do make yourself at home.”
“Rest well.”
For a few blissful hours I did just that. Far too exhausted to make any pretense at polite conversation with a stranger, I returned to my cot feeling that it was kind of the Lung to think of me even though it wasn’t necessary.
But something woke me an indeterminate time later; it was utterly dark in the house, no soft glow of a candle coming from the other room. A few quick thumps and grunts could be heard, followed by a heavy impact on the floor, eliciting a cry of pain.
“Shhh, keep your voice down, please,” the low voice of Kindin Ladd said. “Master Dervan is trying to sleep. Now, let’s talk about this in peace.”
“Get off me!” some man replied none too softly.
“I promise I will after we’ve chatted peaceably,” Kindin said, his voice almost a coo. “Let’s lower our voices, please.”
“Drown that nonsense!” the man said, raising his voice instead of lowering it. I moaned and rose from my cot, blindly reaching out for the candles on my wardrobe while the Talker earned his nickname.
“You will not be drowning anything soon. You won’t be moving, in fact, until I wish it. The quicker you calm down and quietly discuss your presence here with me, the quicker I can let you go in peace.” This is what Priests of the Gale did: redirect violence aimed at them, immobilize their opponents, and then talk of peace until they were begged for mercy.
“I’m here to visit Master Dervan,” the man grated out. Fury in every word, but his volume was much lower.
“A friend of his, are you?”
“Yes.”
“Strange, then, that you picked the lock and snuck in rather than simply knock on the door. Is that how you commonly visit your friends?”
Silence. I got a candle lit and shuffled into the main room. The Priest of the Gale had his knee pressed down between the shoulder blades of a man much larger than he and his arms pinned to either side. The intruder