A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings #1) - Kevin Hearne Page 0,148

that thing. Goats are just the beginning. You like gharel hens because of the way they squawk and wriggle. And then there’s the legendary sessions with wart yaks.”

He continues to list invented liaisons with various creatures while I scramble to my horse, draw my sword, and then hack at his neck to shut him up. His head tumbles into the grass, blood pumps from the stump a couple of times, and the horses whinny at the approach of predators. Cursing that he had been able to get to me and deny me what little pleasure I could take from his begging, I leap onto the horse and gallop back into the city.

My repeated requests for a Brynt hygienist to be sent to me from Talala Fouz have gone unheeded. The king wants me dead, I know it. Or so weak that I fail to dislodge the Hathrim and then he can remove me for that. The Fornish ambassador says there’s a Brynt hygienist in Pont whom they would be happy to send except that Gorin Mogen’s navy is making the passage too risky.

I have few options left. I can’t leave the city to seek aid while there’s an invading force on my doorstep, and there’s no chance of me receiving help for days at this point. If it is Kalaad’s judgment for me to die in the most humiliating way possible, I suppose I have earned it. But I will defy such an end as long as I can.

—

“Tomorrow our story will catch up with where we began, the night of the Bone Giants’ invasion. Until then!”

Toast, interrupted. Should anyone ever ask for a quick summary of my existence, I think that will do. The violent knock on my door as I was bringing breakfast to my mouth so startled me that I dropped my toast facedown. I could almost hear a mournful foghorn bellow through my shock as I stared at it, and I considered wailing an impromptu dirge, but the knocking continued, so I went to answer. The person responsible for destroying my breakfast was none other than Gerstad Nara du Fesset, looking grim.

“Oh, no. What’s the trouble now?” I asked her.

“No imminent danger,” she said. “But there’s someone who needs to see you.”

“Uh…the pelenaut?”

“Someone who works for the pelenaut. Are you ready to go?”

“More ready than I am to clean up my toast.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Never mind. Let’s go.” I followed the gerstad down to the warehouse district surrounding the docks. She wouldn’t tell me anything more about who we were going to see but instead spoke of what had happened at the chowder house.

“How’s your wound? I’m still terribly sorry about that.”

“It’ll be fine. The hygienist says I’m free of infection. And it’s not your fault. There’s no reason for you to feel guilty about it.”

“I see plenty of reasons. But I’m glad to hear you’ll heal. And at least I have something to do now that might make up for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll be gone for a few days, working on something. If there are any more security worries, you’ll have someone else visiting you.”

“Oh. Well, I hope you’ll be safe.”

We turned down a narrow alley between buildings with only a sliver of sun illuminating it from above. It smelled of mold and other things that thrive in low-light, musty environments. The gerstad stopped at an unusual solid metal door with no handle on it and a slot at eye level. She knocked on it twice. The slot opened, and a pair of dark eyes peered out.

“I’m here with the professor as ordered,” she said. The slot slammed shut, and then a series of clacks and clicks signaled locks tumbling open. The door scraped open, and she ushered me through first. Two gigantic mariners waited inside, blocking our path down a hallway so narrow that they almost had to stand sideways. They searched me for weapons but not the gerstad.

“Clear,” one of them said.

“This is where I leave you, Dervan. Go with these men and be well.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“They’ll take you to the man who’s speaking for the pelenaut in these matters.”

That didn’t give me any useful information and it annoyed me, but I understood that I must be meeting someone my wife might have known. Vague sentences and security paranoia could only mean I’d stepped into state-sponsored skulduggery. I nodded a farewell, and one guard closed and locked the door behind her.

The other beefy mariner grunted and indicated that I should follow him down